


Red is the Fiercest Color

by The_Moss_Stomper



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Cheating, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied past sexual coercion, Lies and Deceit, Morally Grey Characters, Sexual Content, Swearing, Turks being Turks, Unhappy marriage, messed-up thought patterns, some of it uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Moss_Stomper/pseuds/The_Moss_Stomper
Summary: Malena seeks refuge from her unhappy marriage in the arms of another. Little does she know that this charming, red-haired stranger comes with a hidden agenda that will turn her life upside-down – but when she figures him out, she sees a chance to make a few changes of her own.





	1. Any Port in a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Not a sexy pool boy AU, even though the first few chapters might give that impression. X) Please take a moment to check the tags.
> 
> Note that I'm not 100% sure about the rating – the focus is on the emotional rather than the physical, but sex scenes do play a greater role here than in my previous stories. Meaning there's a lot of them, and they _linger_. Some are a bit uncomfortable, too. Just FYI.
> 
> (And if you've read my other stories, this one is not meant to be a part of the "Tessverse".)

So this is what it's like.

Malena stares out the window as she waits for her breathing to slow. She can see the sky through the slits in the blinds, lit by a pale sun on the cusp of summer, still in search of its full heat. But inside this cramped room that smells of swimming pools and sweat, under the covers she has wrapped around herself, Malena feels too warm. Too warm. Her skin is still damp, flush with the effects of a hammering heart. She can't pull the covers down, though. Not while the man beside her is watching.

His eyes are blue, but not like Tiago's. If these are the color of the sea on a warm summer day, then Tiago's are the blue of a winter morning's sky. This man's hair is red, his skin paler than the feeble sun outside his window. A foreigner from across the sea, who has traveled to Costa del Sol for a summer's worth of adventure. A pool attendant hired for the seasonal influx of tourists, no doubt thanks to his boyish good looks and winning smile. My, my. What would Tiago think?

Some sharp emotion pierces Malena's chest. It feels like guilt, but that can't be. Why would she feel guilty, when Tiago has done the same to her for years?

The man smiles at her.

"Three gil for your thoughts, sweetness."

Malena turns her face away, toward the the ceiling. A fan, attached to the only lamp in the room, revolves in lazy circles. The wooden blades, styled like palm fronds, barely move the humid air. She watches the faint shadows they cast as they follow one another in an endless ring, much like her thoughts reel aimlessly inside her head. She can't gather the willpower to figure them out. It's probably the drinks. The drinks were a bad idea. If Tiago finds out–

The man beside her raises his arms and stretches with a pleasurable groan. The covers pull and shift, and Malena scrambles for a tighter hold on them. When she looks to the side, he has a wide grin on his face.

"Feeling shy? After what we just got up to?"

"I barely know your name," she mumbles, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks.

"What, you forgot it already?" He chuckles and tucks his hands in under his head. "It's Reno, remember?"

She likes his laughter, even now. It makes her feel like he's laughing with her, instead of at her.

"I remember." She only learned his name that same afternoon, but the striking stranger from Midgar, always ready with a smile and funny line, hasn't left her thoughts for two weeks. Ohh, she should have known what would happen.

"I have to get home," she mutters, tugging the covers higher as she sits up. "Tiago expects dinner by five."

"Tiago?" He props himself up on an elbow, eyebrows raised. "Who's that?"

"My husband."

The silence makes her cast a furtive glance his way. Reno is staring at her.

"You're _married_?"

It is her turn to stare.

"You didn't notice the ring?" She holds up her hand, displaying the golden band on her fourth finger.

"That's a wedding ring?" He flops onto his back, chuckling. "Well, shit. Where I'm from, those go on the left hand."

The heavy ache in the pit of her stomach swells, spreads up to her chest. She assumed he knew. Has she deceived him, too? Oh, if only this cursed bed would open up and swallow her whole!

"I'm sorry. I should go." She scoots over to the side of the bed, but keeping herself covered by the sheet makes it a slower process than she hoped. Her long, tangled hair keeps getting caught under her elbows, making it even worse.

"Hey, it's fine. I mean, ain't like _I_ give a shit one way or the other." Reno snickers. "So long as this husband of yours won't come breaking down my door, yo."

"He is a businessman," she mutters. "All he knows how to break is his word." She reaches the edge of the bed at last and slides her legs over it awkwardly, keeping the covers clutched to her bosom.

"Is that why you've made a habit of hooking up with good-looking foreigners?"

Malena goes still.

"It is not a habit," she whispers. Her face burns hot.

She looks down as she feels Reno's hand on top of hers. Her hand has balled into a fist, scrunching up the sheet.

"Sorry, sweetness," he says behind her, "bad joke. Didn't mean nothing by it, okay?"

Malena stares at his hand, so white compared to hers. No matter how hard she tries, she can't find the hidden lie in his apology. Is it the drinks? Her head feels so hot and muddy.

She pulls her hand out of his and stands up, pulling the covers with her. It isn't easy to stumble over to her clothes with her legs tangled up in a sheet. The cocktails she's had make it even harder. She can't remember when her knees have last felt so wobbly.

Her dress lies in a heap by the wall, its dainty floral fabric a mess of wrinkles. She'll have time to change, she tells herself as she snatches it up, trying to calm the rapid hum of her pulse. And if Tiago comes home early, she can say it fell off the hanger in her spa locker. It'll be all right. She just needs to find the rest of her clothes. She spins around and nearly smacks into Reno's chest.

"Heyyy, hold up a sec." He places his hands on her upper arms, keeping her face to face with him. He glances at the clock on the wall. "Look, it's only half past three. Let's, um… have a drink or something before you go, yeah?"

Her heart thumps harder than before, partly from the little scare, partly from… _him_ , standing so close to her. Flustered, Malena bows her head – only to whip it back up again. Saints above, the man isn't wearing a single thing.

"I think I've had too much to drink already," she stammers.

"Not even coffee? Soda?" His hands, so warm on her skin, stroke up and down her arms. "C'mon. I'd hate to see you go with that look on your face."

She can barely stand her ground when it's something she doesn't want. Facing those pretty, pleading blue eyes, she doesn't have a chance at all.

"Coffee." It might help, she tells herself. Clear her head. " _Just_ a coffee."

Reno smiles. "Just a coffee."

"And some pants, please. For you."

He looks down and laughs. "What, you don't like the view anymore?"

He turns around though, snickering to himself, and picks up his shorts off the floor. As he pulls them on, she tries to locate the rest her clothes as quickly as possible.

"The bathroom is over there." He points to a door across the room; the only one besides the front door. "If you're still feeling shy, I mean."

Grateful, Malena gathers up her things and shuffles over to the bathroom.

* * *

 

When Malena comes out of the bathroom, the air in Reno's one-room residence seems a little easier to breathe. It has acquired a suggestion of ground coffee, too. Reno stands in the corner that pretends to be a kitchen, facing away from her. He hasn't put on a shirt. As she heads to the bed to drop off the sheet she commandeered, he glances over his shoulder.

"Take a seat wherever you want. This'll take a few minutes. They don't give us employees the nice machines they have over at the spa. Tastes just fine though, once it's finally done."

He doesn't have a table, just a pair of tall chairs tucked in under the wide windowsill of the only window in the room. It's some slim comfort that the blinds are drawn; she didn't even think to check when she stumbled in with him.

She had a drink of water in the bathroom, but her legs are still unsteady. She pulls out one of the chairs and climbs up cautiously, hoping and praying that she won't take a tumble. Her feet don't reach the floor and the back rest is too low to be comfortable, but she prefers it to standing stiff and idle. Reno still has his back to her, fiddling with the coffeemaker in the corner. He's so close that if she were to reach out with her hand, she might be able to brush her fingertips against his back.

She did more than just brush them against him earlier, judging by the red, criss-crossing lines on both sides of his spine.

Malena quickly averts her eyes. She tries to keep them trained on the outside, but there's a limit to how much she can see through the blinds and she's too worried about passers-by to open them. Her gaze begins to stray.

How strange it is, just sitting and waiting while another makes the coffee. Malena doesn't know what to do with herself. She doesn't know where to look either. No pictures are displayed on the walls and shelves. No photos on the tiny fridge door, no knickknacks, no potted plants… Nothing at all that might hint at what Reno likes to do with himself when he isn't working. It looks like a hotel room, which is technically true. It must have been his for only a couple of weeks.

"I should've guessed you're married. Sweet thing like you? Of course someone's snatched you up already." Reno chuckles as he opens a cupboard and grabs the handles of two turquoise mugs at once. They look like the ones she's seen at the spa. "Guess he ain't done such a good job of keeping you, though. You been married for long?"

"I'd rather not speak of my marriage." The words feel odd in her mouth. She can't tell how much of it comes from the meaning behind them and how much from speaking a language foreign to her. She's met many easterners through her husband's business, but she has rarely said more than a few words to them.

"Awkward, huh?" Reno laughs again, not seeming very awkward at all. "Sure, we can talk about something else. How about… La Luz? You come here all year around?"

"Yes. More in the summer."

"Really? Doesn't seem like your kinda place, to be honest. Everyone else is old and wrinkly, what with it being a rehab center and all."

It's the only spa Tiago will pay for. Because he gets a good deal, he'll say. Because La Luz uses Fuerza's solar panels. They sound like sensible reasons. The reasons he gives her always do.

"My husband doesn't want me to go to public beaches. He thinks it isn't safe." Safety, that's another one of his favorites.

"Not safe, huh?" Reno sends her a grin over his shoulder. "Because of irresistible guys like me?"

Flustered, Malena looks down at her hands. How can he do that? They're talking about her husband! Was Reno born this shameless? How has someone like him been hired by a place like La Luz?

"It doesn't seem like your kind of place, either," she says out loud. "I would think someone like you comes here for the bars and the beaches."

He shrugs. "A job's a job. Gotta pay for those beach bar drinks somehow, yo."

Behind him, the machine's sputtering quiets. As Reno fills the mugs, Malena draws a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm her nerves. This was a mistake. All of it. What is she still doing here?

But Reno has been kind to her. And if he really didn't know she was married, well… She basically led him astray, no matter how unabashed he is about it. She can't just run off so rudely, not when she's already accepted his invitation and he's gone through the trouble of making her coffee.

Reno places a mug in front of her. His arm brushes against hers, leaving a pleasant tingle on her skin.

"Cream, sugar?"

"Both." She barely gets the word out, distracted as she is by his proximity. How can he still smell so good? As he returns to the kitchen corner, she catches herself admiring the fluid motion of his half-naked body. 

Ohh, Tiago is right. She is a wicked, wicked woman.

Reno returns with a sugar bowl and creamer in the same turquoise as the mugs. Provided by the spa, probably. He doesn't strike her as the sort who would invest in a matching cream and sugar set. As he pulls out the other chair and takes a seat, she plucks two cubes from the sugar bowl and slides them into her coffee one at a time, careful not to splash any drops on the windowsill. The cream is thick and white. Her thoughts stutter to a standstill as her mind makes some unfortunate connections.

Reno grabs a handful of sugar cubes and plops them all in at once. After a hasty stir, he raises his coffee for a sip. In the brightness of the window, his eyes are a good match for the mug he holds; the same green-tinged blue as the pools at La Luz, which the mugs are meant to mirror. If only she didn't feel so awkward whenever she gazes into his eyes. It is easier to study the curved marks which frame them, as vividly red as his hair. Malena has never seen tattoos like them before. He has other ones on his body, too. It was a surprise, finding so many underneath the tidy polo shirt and shorts of a La Luz pool attendant. It was a _thrill_.

Feeling the all too familiar warmth return to her cheeks, Malena looks down at her coffee and crosses her legs.

"So…" Reno drops another sugar into his mug and stirs slowly. "What do you do when you're not lounging by the pool at La Luz?"

"My husband has asked me not to work." She doesn't like saying it, but admitting that she can't do anything useful is worse.

"Well, what you do you do for fun?"

Malena gives him a blank stare.

"I… host parties for Fuerza's business partners?" Is that the right answer? Why does he ask such tricky questions?

"Fuerza?"

That one, at least, is easy.

"My husband's company," she says, falling back on well-rehearsed lines. "You watch the news, yes? Maybe you have heard about the new solar panels, which harvest the energy of the sun. It's one of Fuerza's designs."

"Yeah?" Reno says, though he shows no signs of recognition. "Your husband's some kinda tech whiz, then?"

"Tiago does the marketing, the business deals. He talks to the big companies." She searches her memory for a name which a Midgar man might know. "Like Shinra."

Reno gives a low whistle.

"Now Shinra I've heard of. Guess that means this Fuerza is a pretty big deal on this side of the pond, huh?"

Malena has run out of prepared answers. Her conversations at the parties never last this long. She will mention her husband and point him out, and whoever she is talking to will excuse themselves and seek him out. If they don't… Tiago seeks them out himself.

"I… don't know much about the business," she mumbles, staring into her coffee. Her husband, her husband's business. How have they ended up talking about Tiago _again_?

"Really? I thought you said you host parties for these guys?"

"I smile and serve drinks. That is all." She swallows a mouthful of coffee. It's still too hot to drink faster.

"Oh, c'mon. I bet you hear all the juicy rumors. People say all sorts of things around those of us who are there to smile and look pretty."

 _Smile and look pretty, that's all you have to do. It's all you_ can _do, yes?_ She can practically hear Tiago laugh at his own joke. She would laugh too, because it's easier that way.

Malena pours the rest of her coffee down her throat, scalding the top of her mouth.

"I should go."

By the time she has located her purse, Reno is waiting by the door, smiling at her. She approaches warily and lets him take her hand, but when he leans in for a kiss, she turns away. His lips touch her cheek instead.

"Thanks for the coffee." Malena tries to pull her hand out of his, but his grip is firmer than she expects. She glances up, hoping to find some clue on his face. He is still smiling. It looks like a nice smile. She isn't sure what that means.

"I had a real good time," he says softly. "Maybe we could do this again some time?"

He clasps her hand in both of his. Malena's breaths become quick and shallow as she stares at them. What if he refuses to let go?

"I don't think that's a good idea," she whispers.

She tugs again. With a sigh, he releases her at last.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

His smile is lopsided, raising one of the red marks under his eyes slightly higher than the other. Even though she has let him down, his smile is warm and kind. She still can't tell what he means by it… but it makes her yearn for another kiss.

Malena turns away and leaves.


	2. Red-Haired and Red-Blooded

Malena misses her next two sessions at La Luz. At home she tries to make up for the big lie by being painstakingly honest about everything else. That includes her lack of exercise, and a result Tiago's remarks grow more and more pointed with each day that passes, until she feels like an elfadunk.

That's why she is in the spa's locker room a week later, coaxing her body into her bathing suit. Someone is taking a shower in a nearby stall, but Malena is the only one between the slatted, wooden doors of the lockers. With any luck, the pool will be quiet, too.

She didn't see Reno on her way in. What if he isn't at work?

What if he is?

Malena cocoons herself in a spa bathrobe and cinches the belt tight, but it does nothing to settle the butterflies in her stomach. At the locker room door she pauses for a look around. A woman wearing the same white spa robe sits in one of the plush chairs nearby, holding a magazine in her plump fingers. Waiting for a scheduled treatment, probably. The open double doors on the other side of the lounge give Malena a decent view of the main pool in the enclosed garden. She doesn't spot any red by the pool, but that isn't enough to calm her jitters either. As she shuffles across the terracotta tiles, she shortens her steps to keep her flip-flops as quiet as possible.

Just inside the open doors, she stops for a better look. The spa's enclosed garden is surrounded on all sides by treatment rooms and smaller indoor pools. Trellis walls covered in lush, flowering vines divide the space into green-walled, roofless rooms, which all open onto the turquoise rectangle that is the main pool. A fully stocked bar curves across one corner of the garden, though it is currently unmanned. Filling drink orders is likely the duty of the pool attendant at such an early hour of the day, wherever he or she is.

About a dozen guests lounge in deck chairs around the pool. The spa marries the sleek lines of modern design with the rustic charm of the Costan countryside, in a style that seems to attract a particular kind of clientele; the kind with deep pockets and receding hairlines. More than half are foreigners. As the summer grows hotter, the spa will overflow with rich guests from across the sea. That is why La Luz hires young easterners who are easy on the eyes for the tourist season. Is Tiago not aware of this, Malena wonders as she surveys the pool, or does he think her language skills are too poor to be of any use?

Knowing him, it's probably both.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. How are you today?"

She flinches and turns, to find _him_ offering her a folded towel. He wears his usual La Luz uniform: navy shorts and canvas shoes, and a white polo shirt. As he smiles broadly at her, her heart grows heavy. It's the same smile she has seen him offer all the other guests at La Luz.

"I'm fine." It sounds like a rasp in her throat, because her mouth has gone dry. That would be the usual end of the greeting ritual they have settled into over the past two weeks, but now she can't resist adding, "And you?"

"Doing pretty good, thanks for asking."

As she takes the towel, their hands brush against each other. It only lasts a second, but his touch lingers, as a heat that slowly spreads across her skin.

"I'm here to swim," she blurts, and immediately regrets it. Of course she's there to swim. Now he'll just think she has something else on her mind. "I should start," she mumbles, turning away.

"Enjoy your swim, ma'am."

_Ma'am_. Malena is growing a new resentment for the word.

A white-haired woman has parked herself at the foot of the steps to the pool area, safely in the shade of a teal-colored beach umbrella. Her thin body is snugly wrapped up in a fluffy robe, leaving only her bony hands and head exposed. Her name is Esme. Malena knows this because the old lady makes a point of introducing herself to everyone who arrives at the spa. It is why she has picked such a strategic spot.

"Malena!" Esme calls. "If I go to San Doro, will I find more like him?"

Malena doesn't seek out others for company at La Luz, but Esme tries to strike up conversation with everyone, including staff. Nothing Malena has tried can deter her.

"He's from Midgar," she replies on her way down the steps. "You will have to go there for men like him."

"Midgar? That's a bit far for my old legs." Esme tuts and lifts her slippered feet, just a fraction.

"How lucky that you've got a Midgar man right here, then."

"Oh, he's a bit young for me. If only I was thirty years younger…" She sighs, then gives Malena an impish look. "I'll just have to leave him to you, dearie."

In an instant, the lingering warmth on Malena's hand blooms all the way up to her face.

"Very funny," she mutters and hurries past the crone.

Esme knows nothing, she can't. She has made remarks like that ever since Reno's first shift. It's his hair, of course. The color of it was the first thing that caught Malena's eye, too, bright as a beacon among the browns and blacks beneath the blistering sun of Costa del Sol. Malena is one of the rare exceptions to the norm, but her auburn hair can't compete with the vibrancy of his.

Of course, that hasn't stopped old Esme from joking about what a nice couple they'd make whenever she's spotted Malena in the past weeks. Malena has just brushed it off before, but now she casts furtive glances at the other guests she passes. More than a few are watching her, but that doesn't mean much. She sticks out like a sore thumb, and not just because of her red-tinged hair: she has to be the only one under sixty among them.

No wonder Reno noticed her, when she's the only guest who can walk without a cane.

Her usual lane is empty, as it often is at this time of day. She flings the towel onto the nearest deck chair, shrugs out of her robe, and dives straight into the pool. The shimmering water engulfs her in a warm, soothing embrace. She likes the water. It's kind enough to hide her from view.

Malena expected a whole week without swimming would weaken her, but if anything, she feels wholly invigorated. The sun hasn't yet reached the scorching heat of summer, so its rays feel pleasantly warm on her back. It's the perfect day for a swim – or it would be, if her attention wouldn't stray whenever she catches a glimpse of red.

She usually takes a break halfway through, but he always comes by for a little chat when she does. So she stays in the water, doing lap after lap until her shoulders ache. She isn't ready to climb out, to face _him_ again. At the edge of the pool, she raises both arms onto the white tile and folds them under her chin. With a relieved sigh, she lets her eyes fall shut and rolls her head from side to side. Her neck will be so sore–

"You're really going at it today, huh?"

Malena's eyes fly open at his voice; a pair of feet in navy canvas shoes have appeared in front of her. When she doesn't look up, he sinks down into a squat. She forces herself to meet him face to face. It's either that or stare at the crotch he's parked in her field of vision. Reno gives her a smile broad enough to warp the red crescents by his eyes.

"Gotta be thirsty work. Can I get you a drink?"

She looks down, just enough to stare at the spa logo on the right side of his chest, embroidered onto his shirt with turquoise thread. This is how it started last time. A drink, then another. The third one drowned her inhibitions, along with her common sense.

"No, thanks."

"Nothing at all? I've got a brand new pitcher of orange juice at the bar. Freshly squeezed by yours truly."

Is that some kind of innuendo? He makes it sound like innuendo. Or is that just her? He hasn't flirted with her before… has he? Memories come trickling back in, one by one, but these are not the second thoughts that make her shrivel up with shame. A kind word given as freely as a comment on the weather. A shared smile. His hands on her shoulders as he helps her into her bathrobe. His fingers touching hers as he hands her a towel. These glimpses of the past warm her far more sweetly than the sun ever could.

"Actually… I'll have a coffee." What's the harm? If his fingers happen to brush against hers as he serves it to her, then it's just–

"Cream, two sugars, right?"

The memory that those words bring is far from innocent. Malena wavers, but the hope of another casual touch is too powerful. She nods, and Reno flashes another blinding smile.

"Coming right up."

Malena's body turns to lead the moment she climbs out of the water. Her robe is on the chair, neatly folded next to the towel. Reno's doing, probably. She has never thought twice about it before, but as she glances around she notices his little touches everywhere. The twin towers of white folded towels beside his attendant's chair. The stacked cups and glasses behind the bar counter. The rows of deck chairs along each side of the pool, all of them arranged at the same slight angle to the pool edges. All of it has to be his work. It _is_ his work, as in his job.

It's okay. Him offering her a drink is just his job, nothing more. It's okay.

She has just settled back in the deck chair, safely hidden inside her robe, when Reno returns with two mugs on a tray. He sets one of them down on the little table beside her chair.

"Here you go, ma'am. Fresh from a new pot."

No touches, no double meanings; nothing but that dreadful _ma'am_. Just doing his job.

"Thank you," she mumbles, feeling her limbs grow even heavier.

The mug is the same turquoise as the ones in his cabin. She picks it up to give her fidgeting hands something to do, to give her straying eyes something to gaze into that isn't his eyes. She expects him to leave, but instead he takes the second mug off the tray and sits down on the deck chair next to hers.

"Time for my coffee break," he says as he sets the tray down on the table, answering the question her eyes were asking. "You don't mind, do you?"

It isn't the first time he's sat down with her for a coffee. She's seen him sit with other guests as well – old Esme is more than happy to let him practise his fumbling Costan with her – but this time Malena can't help but glance around as her heart speeds up.

"Nice weather for a swim, huh? Think it'll keep until the weekend?"

The weather is the last thing on her buzzing mind. She has no idea how to respond to something so mundane, so _trivial_ , so she just shrugs.

"Might see about getting a boat for the day," he continues, "and check out some of the islands around here. Got any recommendations?"

His fingers, long and slim, cradle his mug. He raises it to his lips – _so soft, so pink_ – and takes a sip. As he lowers it, his tongue darts across his lips. She has felt the touch of them all on her skin.

Malena realizes what she is doing, and quickly looks down at her coffee.

"Don't say much, do you?" Reno's grin is evident in his voice. "What kind of Costan are you?"

It sounds like the sort of thing Tiago might say, but he would never say it like that. She senses no hidden edge in Reno's words, nor in his smile. It sounds like a harmless joke between friends. She is slowly coming to believe that that's the intent behind it, too.

"Bit wound up today, huh?" he chatters on. "You know, if you feel like changing your mind, a drink might help you relax. A Costan Sunrise, maybe?"

He winks, and Malena's breath catches in her throat. Costan Sunrises are what he brought her the last time, and now he _winks_ when bringing them up. Does he mean what she thinks he means? His thoughts aren't on his job anymore, that much is clear, and they make him smile. They make him _wink_.

She has already done the unthinkable, and what has Tiago done? Not a damned thing. He didn't look at her twice at dinner that day. He spent the evening and most of the night "with his buddies", which could have meant anything. In the morning, he kept his head buried in his newspaper, paying more attention to what she set down on his plate than her. He didn't notice anything different about her. He'll probably be none the wiser if she does it again.

Ohh, Tiago is right. She is weak.

"Actually, I was wondering…" Her voice sounds strange in her ears. "What are your plans after your shift?"

Reno doesn't respond right away. He takes another sip of his coffee, watching her over his mug.

"Oh, not much," he says breezily once he lowers it again. "Figured I'd have a bite to eat, go for a run once it cools down a bit…" Something wolfish creeps into his smile as he looks her over. "Nothing that can't wait."

Malena's skin prickles all over.

"And when does your shift end?"

His smirk is nothing like the smile he gives the other guests. He glances at the clock on the wall.

"In half an hour." He leans closer as he gets up. Some of his hair falls forward and comes within inches of her face as he murmurs two more words to her. "Back door."

Malena totters back to the locker room on unsteady legs. It could be from the swim, but more likely it's the look Reno gave her before he left. As if he too has spent a week secretly yearning for this. She showers and dresses in a daze. She tries not to think about what she's about to do. She tries not to think too hard about anything at all, because if she does, those crippling second thoughts might sneak back in.

Outside the spa, she veers left and walks behind the carved colonnade that gives the building its distinctive facade. At the corner, a sandy path continues down to the beach through a clump of trees. After a quick look around, she skips off the path and sneaks around the side of the building. By the time she reaches the back door, her heart is pounding.

Malena smoothes out her sundress, wishing she'd worn one of her prettier ones. She spent most of the past half hour in front of the mirror, doing her best with the makeup she brought along. Her hair has caught the scent of orange blossoms from her shampoo, but a faint smell of chlorine sticks to her skin no matter how hard she'd tries to scrub it off. Then again, that didn't bother him the first time.

The back door opens. A grin is the only greeting she receives before Reno descends upon her like a hurricane. Malena gasps as her back hits the wall, but the sound of it is swallowed up by his greedy mouth. He presses his body flush with hers, pinning her against the wall as his lips demand her full attention, but she can't give it yet, not there. Malena puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls back, as far as the wall lets her.

"Not here," she whimpers.

Reno takes a step back and grabs her hand. The look in his eyes makes her stomach go tight, and when he pulls her down the path, her trembling legs barely function. Their goal is one of the buildings tucked away behind a copse of trees, in a quiet corner of the property. The cabins are in the same style as the ones used by the spa guests down by the beach, but each one of these is split into two units meant for employees. It didn't occur to her to worry about the other occupants the first time, tipsy as she was, but all the windows she can see on their way to Reno's door are dark.

As soon as the door slams shut behind them, he's on her again. His hands are everywhere, groping and pushing and tugging. So are his lips; she can barely breathe under his fevered onslaught. Malena lets her eyes fall shut and follows his frenzied flow. It's pointless to fight a storm.

As his mouth roams down her neck, she finally gets the chance to speak.

"You have… protection, yes?" She barely recognizes her own voice, thick and breathless.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that."

"What do I call you?" he murmurs, panting hotly against her skin. "Sweetness?"

"Yes." She smiles. "Call me that."

"Whatever you want, sweetness."

His nimble fingers have found the zipper of her dress. He tugs it down, pushes the dress over her shoulders. While it's still sliding down, he moves on to her bra. Malena feels no need to protest his rush. She's just as eager to feel his touch on her bare skin, and oh, what a touch it is. It feels like her whole body is coming alive after a long, listless sleep. It doesn't matter whether it's a brush of his fingers or an open-mouthed kiss; everything he does ripples across her skin as waves of joy.

All too soon, Reno takes a step back and pulls his polo shirt over his head.

"Turn around, sweetness." He opens the drawer in his bedside table. "On your hands and knees."

Malena hesitates as he roots around in the drawer, but when he tears open the piece of foil he's found and pushes down his shorts, she obediently climbs onto the bed and follows his instructions. She would like to see his face, to feel his body close to hers, but if this is what he wants…

All her doubts are forgotten the second he pushes in. He goes in slowly, inch by inch, setting her nerves alight in slow-motion. She can't remember what this moment was like the first time, but now she's sober enough to savor every second of it. 

"Fuck, that feels good," he groans. "Is it as good for you, sweetheart?"

His hands stroke down her back to her waist and up again, firm and warm. Why did she wait so long to feel them on her again?

"Y-yes." How small and pathetic that word is compared to what she tries to convey, yet she can barely get it out. The angle is _just right_ , and the size of it, the depth he could reach… By all the saints and summons, it's been so long that she's forgotten it could feel like this.

Reno leans down before he begins to move. It's just a gentle rocking, as sweet as his caresses. His lips skim the back of her neck, her shoulders. His breath is hot, much hotter than his hands. When she closes her eyes, it's as if he is everywhere at once. He overwhelms her, fills her to the brim, feeds her starving skin with his touch.

She shivers a little when he straightens up, leaving her back exposed to the breeze from the fan above. His momentum is building. She has to push back to stay upright, matching his rhythm. Every time her shoulders, worn out from her swim, twinges through the pleasure she feels. Her legs aren't much better, already trembling from the effort. She doesn't want to complain, though, not when his fondling hands are so eager, so insatiable.

But what little remains of her strength is rapidly dwindling. Reno shows no signs of slowing; if anything, he's speeding up, his breaths heavy and ragged. Malena's arms shake, barely able to keep her from jolting forward. How long will he keep this up? She doesn't want to disappoint him, but there's only so much more her body can take. He's the one keeping her hips in the air now, holding her steady in a firm grip. She's just along for the ride.

With some half-choked sound, he digs his fingers in deep. His movements become erratic, frantic, until at last he goes still. After a few more panted breaths, he lets her go. Slowly, Malena sags down on the bed. Her legs feel like jelly. Her arms barely obey her at all, but she manages to get one tucked in under her head. She doesn't care how she looks or what he can see. All she wants is to move as little as possible.

The mattress sways up and down when Reno drops down beside her.

"Hot damn." He laughs as he pushes his hair out of his face. "A guy could get used to this."

He lies on his back with a dazed grin on his face. When she curls up beside him, he wraps his arm around her. She smiles shyly and inches her hand onto his chest.

"You good there, sweetness?" he murmurs.

All she can muster in response is a contented hum, because his fingers are distracting her with the tingling lines they draw down her arm. He's so generous with his caresses. Up and down he strokes, again and again. After each one she expects him to stop, but he just keeps going. Her body is melting against his, sinking deeper into this languid, boneless spell he's cast on her. Her limbs feels so heavy, her mind so sleepy. She closes her eyes and basks in the glow that his fingers paint on her skin; his touches bloom like watercolors on damp paper and spread slowly all the way to her toes and fingertips.

Eventually, the glow fades. The thoughts he pounded out of her come crawling back, laden with a darker kind of weight that drags her out of her drowsy peace. The first time she could blame the drinks and chalk up to a one-time mistake, but she can't close her eyes to the truth anymore. She's an adulteress. It seems like the sort of thing that should make her feel guilty, but she doesn't feel much of anything. Just tired, so very tired. Maybe after all these years, she has run out of shame.

A ding sounds from the floor. Malena sighs as Reno rolls away and leans over the edge, scrabbling for his PHS. The outside world was bound to creep up on them, that is inevitable. She just hoped for a few more minutes.

Reno pushes himself back onto the bed, phone in hand.

"Well, that's just fucking fantastic," he mutters.

He is frowning. Malena's heart speeds up, each beat harder than the one before.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's just my boss. Wants me to come in early tomorrow." He looks over at her and holds up the phone in his hand. "Hey, now that I've got this thing handy, wanna trade numbers?"

He's smiling again, but her pulse won't calm down so quickly. Her indolence has evaporated in an instant.

"I'd better not. If Tiago is around when I get a call, he wants to see the screen."

"Seriously?" Reno raises his eyebrows and looks at his phone, as if it might answer his question in her stead. "Well, you could always put me down as 'that old lady from the Luz' or something. I can do a pretty good impression." He raises his voice to a shaky falsetto. "This is Granny Luna, dearie. I'm calling to make sure you've eaten your vegetables."

She does her best to smile, but it's half-hearted at most. If Tiago caught her chatting with another man…

"Hey, it's just an idea." Reno sets the PHS down on the bedside table and scoots closer. "No pressure or anything."

His fingers feel nice stroking down her cheek. Malena closes her eyes and lets his touch soothe her flittering heart.

"Show me your number," she murmurs. "I'll remember it."

"Huh? Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that."

The doubt remains on Reno's face, but he taps a few keys and holds up the screen. She mouths the digits as she goes through the number twice, then nods.

"You got it? That quickly?"

She repeats the number out loud. It's quicker to prove than convince.

"Holy shit." Reno stares at her, then at the screen of his PHS. "You weren't kidding."

"I have a good head for numbers."

_Shame it's a sieve for everything else._ Malena looks down as her smile grows strained.

"Well, now that that's settled…" He lets the phone clatter onto the bedside table. "If you ever want to sneak away from this husband of yours and have some fun, you know who to call." He winks, grinning.

Utterly shameless. With a renewed smile, Malena nods.


	3. Another Man's Treasure

Malena sets down her plate and takes a seat at the table, across from Tiago. His plate is already empty, as is his cup. He pays her no mind, now that he's been fed. He is engrossed in the most important part of his breakfast ritual: reading the news. Out of habit, Malena scans the last page of his newspaper for the results from the local chocobo races. None of them surprise her.

She raises her gaze to her husband. Half his face is visible over the newspaper. She examines what she can see, searching for any signs of his current mood.

He was a handsome man when she first met him. She supposes he still is, on the outside. It's his eyes that really stand out; blue is unusual in Costa del Sol. They were unusual in her hometown, too. All her friends were jealous of her, in that resigned way that built up a vague guilt to go along with her foolish teenage pride. Of course the suave charmer from Costa del Sol would fall for her, they had said, with their eyes if not their mouths. With her green eyes and red-tinged hair, she'd drawn just as many admiring looks as he.

Crow's feet wrinkle the corners of his eyes now, and their blue has grown pale and cold. The first gray strands have invaded his thick, once-dark hair. The angles of his body slope gentler, as if the years have whittled away the width of his shoulders, only to add it to his waist. When did he change so much? It's like she is seeing him with brand new eyes.

"I'm expecting a delivery from Midgar this week," he says, keeping his eyes on his paper. "If I'm not at home, don't touch it. Just open the gate and have them leave it in front of the house."

"You want me to leave it outside?"

He snorts. "What, do you expect them to park it in the living room?"

"Park it?" Malena tries to stitch it all together into something that makes sense. "You mean you bought another car?"

"We discussed it last week. Did you forget so soon?" He chuckles as he turns to a new page. "Oh honey, your head is such a sieve."

He says it as a joke, but she knows that look. That snide smile that turns it into something completely different.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, looking down at her plate. "It must have slipped my mind."

Tiago grunts, or maybe scoffs. His disapproval is clear either way. Malena keeps her eyes cast down and scrapes at a tiny dried speck on the polished hardwood, right by her fork. He hasn't mentioned anything about a car, she could swear it. She can't remember any discussion on the previous one either, and she is _sure_ he never brought up the yacht he bought last year.

But what does it matter? It wouldn't have been much of a discussion, anyway.

Tiago turns to the last page. If she doesn't ask him soon she'll miss her chance, and she is running out of time. She has already put it off for days, hoping for a better moment. She takes a breath to steel herself, and clears her throat.

"Can I go shopping today? I need a dress for the party next week."

"Another one?" He glances at her over the page. "What's wrong with the blue one?"

"What blue one?"

"You know, the one you got from that overpriced store in Gold Saucer."

Malena's cheeks flare hot. She has only been to Gold Saucer once, on their honeymoon. Years ago. Two dress sizes ago. What could possibly have reminded him of its existence?

"It doesn't fit," she mutters.

"Getting a little chubby, huh? When are you going to lose weight?"

The heat on her face pools around her eyes, prickling at her eyelids.

"Tiago, please. I need a dress to look good for our guests."

With an exaggerated sigh, he brings out his wallet and pulls out the silver credit card.

"Don't go crazy," he says, holding it up between two fingers. "I see everything on the statement, remember?"

Malena gets up and rounds the table. She reaches for it cautiously, but he doesn't try to yank it out of her grasp. It must be enough to make her get out of her chair.

"Thank you," she mumbles.

* * *

 

In the dressing room of one of Costa's more exclusive boutiques, Malena zips up the third dress of the day. The selection of cocktail dresses isn't huge, but it's a shop she has frequented before. Tiago probably won't bother to ask questions about it. She was drawn to this dress because of the color; the dark green works with her eyes. It comes with a higher waistline than she's used to, and covers everything down to her knees in billowing layers of chiffon. It feels like cheating. She wonders if Tiago will think so, too.

She turns sideways and runs a hand down the gentle curve of her stomach, swallowing down the lump in her throat. Eight years ago it was the flat line of a waist that fit into the blue dress. She faces the mirror full on and pulls the dress taut over her hips. Hips two sizes larger than they should be. All that swimming and nothing to show for it. Why is it so hard? It shouldn't be hard. It's only a matter of two sizes.

"Does it fit, ma'am?" asks the shop attendant on the other side of the curtain.

Facts are facts. Her body doesn't fit into the blue dress. It fits into this one.

"Yes." With a sigh, Malena releases the dress into its natural drape. "I'll take it."

By the time she has changed back into her own dress, the attendant is folding the newly acquired one into a cardboard box by the till.

"Is it for a celebration?" the woman asks brightly as she closes the box. The shimmering purple of her nails matches the boutique logo embossed on the lid.

"Business. My husband and I are hosting an evening for his associates." He'll drag home the guests and schmooze, while Malena plays the gracious host. Teamwork, he might call it, if he feels like cracking a joke.

"A cocktail party? Oh, I love cocktail parties!"

Malena smiles and nods as the woman chatters on. It's good practice for the upcoming party.

She only speaks up again when the attendant rings up her purchase.

"Could I ask you to put one hundred gil extra on the card and give it to me in cash?"

"Of course," the woman coos. "All in twenties again?"

"Yes. Thank you."

It isn't much, but she doesn't dare take more. Tiago might get suspicious.

Malena pulls down her sunglasses over her eyes as she steps into the street outside. The whole quarter is filled with one-storey boutiques in the style of a typical Costan villa: pale stucco and orange tile, complicated with trellises and arches. The roses won't bloom until later, but the buds are already as abundant as the leaves. It's a tiny village of its own, dedicated to shopping. Malena passes several women dressed in fashionable dresses and high heels, just like her.

The village offers more than just fashion, though, and no cars are allowed on the tiled paths, so children are also a common sight. Malena counts five in the first minute alone. Not so long ago most toddlers had mothers her age. Now so many of them look younger than her.

Her next stop is a pharmacy, tucked in between a café and a lingerie shop. A woman in a white doctor's coat stands behind the counter.

"How may I help you?" she asks, with a detached politeness that makes Malena wonder if the woman really notices her at all.

"I have a prescription." Malena slides a folded slip of paper across the counter.

The pharmacist scans through the prescription, jots down a few notes, and spends a few minutes in the backroom. She returns with a white box in her hand, which she slips into an equally white paper bag. Malena pays for it with four of the bills she received at the dress shop.

Her chores done, Malena sits down at one of the outdoor tables of the café next door. She lets her heels slip off her feet, just a fraction. A coffee is as good an excuse as any to rest her tired feet.

The neighboring table is occupied by a woman with two children, both of them less than ten years of age. A boy and a girl. Behind her, another mother coos to the baby in her pram.

Malena could be one of them. Back when the first cracks appeared in her and Tiago's marriage, she thought a child could patch them up. How naive of her. Fortunately, their early attempts never bore fruit.

Or so she thought, when she discovered the first of Tiago's… dalliances. With every passing year, "fortunate" seems less and less like the right choice of word. What once was an empty echo is now an ache; one she can neither ease nor ignore.

The boy at the table beside hers giggles, then the girl. Their mother joins them a few seconds later. She sounds so happy.

Malena gets up and leaves the rest of her coffee undrunk. She flits down one path after another, ignoring her grumbling toes, until she finds a payphone. She uses the last of her change to place a call, dialing the number from memory. Much to her relief, he answers almost right away.

_"Reno here."_

"It's Malena. From the spa. Remember me?"

_"How could I forget?"_ His voice softens to something low and flirty. _"What's up, sweetness?"_

"I…" What is the right word in his language? _Want_ seems too demanding, _need_ too clingy. "I wish to see you," she tries.

_"Was hoping you'd say that. When?"_

"When do you have time?"

_"Whenever, really. I've done my shift for the day and I got no plans for the rest of it."_

Malena looks around, but she can't see a clock anywhere nearby. It can't be much past two in the afternoon, though.

"Now is okay?" she asks.

_"Sure, come on over. You know where to find me."_

* * *

 

Reno greets her with a smile. His shorts and t-shirt aren't issued by the spa for once, and look a size too large for his slim frame. His hair is a scraggly mess, still damp from a shower. Once the door closes behind her, he runs his hand through hers.

"Hey, sweetness."

Malena spent the taxi ride mulling over this moment. She imagined what he might say, what she might say; but at his touch, the phrases she has prepared are banished from her head. All that remains is the hollow ache, and the need to fill it. With a sigh, she leans into his caressing hand. He gently tilts her head back, but he doesn't kiss her as she hopes.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she answers automatically. "I, um…"

Why is he just watching her? Why doesn't he touch and kiss and take like before?

"Something you need?" His smile is turning into concern.

Malena almost laughs, even as she closes her eyes against the sudden sting in them. How is she supposed to answer that? She just wants him to make it all go away.

"Kiss me," she whispers.

There is a pause. A dreadful, insufferable pause; but then she feels his lips on hers. It's a tender kiss, soft in touch, far too cautious. With some frustrated noise deep in her throat, Malena pushes her body into his and drags her fingers across his back, digging into the fabric of his shirt. Reno catches on at last, and the kiss transforms into the needy, greedy, _overwhelming_ one she wants.

Too soon he releases her lips, and draws back.

"Hey, uh, one thing. I only had a couple of rubbers on me and haven't had the chance to get any more yet. But hey, we can still do other stuff, right?"

Malena swallows a scream. She wants to hear ragged breaths and lusty moans, not _words_.

"We can…" Oh, saints above. How do you say these things in his language? "We can do more than… 'other stuff'. I take a pill."

His eyebrows shoot up, half disappearing under his messy hair. "Really?"

Tiago blames her for tricking him into a barren marriage. Never mind that he was the one who insisted that she follow him from her hometown to the white beaches of Costa del Sol. Well, the joke is on him.

"Please, don't tell anyone." She smiles, though it feels a little off. "Tiago… he doesn't know."

"That's funny, considering you're married to the guy."

Malena lets her gaze fall.

"It isn't much of a marriage. Tiago and I sleep in separate rooms." She feels a heat creep up her throat. "It has been… a very long time since he touched me."

Her face burns hot. Why did she admit it out loud? Maybe the joke is on her after all. If her own husband doesn't want her anymore, why would Reno? Tiago has managed to find someone younger and prettier to take her place more than once, so someone as charming as Reno should have no trouble at all.

Malena's eyelids prickle again. This is going so wrong. Why did she come here?

"I don't get the guy. I really don't." Reno's fingertips trace her jaw. "All I can say is… lucky me."

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her again, and this time, she doesn't want to change a thing. It starts slow, just like the first one. His hands stroke down along her throat, past her shoulders. His fingers skim along the edges of her dress, brushing both skin and fabric. It's like a promise of what's to come, one that spreads through every inch of her body and stokes her need to a whole new level. By the time he breaks away, they're both panting for air.

"Now shut up about him," he purrs. "Don't even think about him. All I want you to think about right now…" He grabs her hand and presses it to the front of his shorts. "…is _this_."

Malena draws a surprised breath. It's not the hardness she finds that catches her off guard, but the sheer audacity of it. Reno grins.

"It's what you came for, isn't it?"

She thought her face couldn't feel any hotter, but she is wrong. She can't look up at his wicked smile, nor down at the bulge he grinds into her palm. At a loss for what to do, she closes her eyes.

He chuckles softly. "It's okay, sweetness. I don't mind."

He's so blunt about it. She has no idea how to respond. His breath hits her forehead in hot, steady puffs, in time with the rhythm of his hips. He has grown in her hand.

"Where do you want it?" he murmurs.

"What?"

Her eyes fly open. He meets them with a heavy-lidded gaze that takes away what little breath she has left.

"C'mon, Lena. You can say it."

In that moment, she's ready to agree to anything. It's that _Lena_ , the way he purrs it.

"Inside me." She can't _say_ it, though. It's barely a whisper.

Reno smiles and strokes his thumb across her chin, underneath her bottom lip.

"Which end?"

Malena falters, taken aback once again. Why does he ask so many questions, anyway? Is it a test?

Warily, she sinks to her knees. It's the choice Tiago would likely expect of her, were he to ever ask. She pushes up the hem of Reno's shirt, revealing the drawstring of his shorts – and quite a bit of his stomach. His abs are firm under her fingertips; coiled in anticipation, perhaps. She glances up as his fingers skim across hers; he gives her a grin as he grabs the shirt from her and nudges her hand toward the drawstring. She hopes that means she's made the right choice.

She loosens his shorts and pushes them down. His underwear looks like a shorter, tighter pair of shorts; she pulls them down too. By the time it occurs to her that she should have prolonged it to something slow and teasing, it's too late. She has already set him free.

It different than Tiago's. That's the first thought that pops into her head, although she can't put her finger on why. It has been too long since she saw it. Longer still since she looked at it with any kind of curiosity. Malena wraps her fingers around the one before her; it's hot to the touch and heavy in her hand. That, at least, is familiar.

She closes her eyes. Reno has never said a cruel word to her, has never denied her an attentive touch. He's a kind man. If she can do this for Tiago, she can do it for him. She bows her head.

It's been a while, but it's easy to get back into the rhythm of it. She learned to be efficient, once upon a time. Reno groans softly as she tries out one of her tricks on him. She feels him touch her hair; she tenses, but he just slides his fingers through in a slow caress. After the third time, she lets herself relax and returns her attention to what she's doing.

He keeps muttering under his breath. Half of it sounds like encouragement dotted with expletives, the other half she can't make out. She prefers it to Tiago's looming, singleminded silence. Each of Reno's mumbled words feels like an acknowledgement of her presence, of the service she's giving him. Even his touch follows that pattern. One of his hands holds the hem of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip, but the other strokes her hair, synced with her movements.

She didn't expect his enjoyment to be so contagious. It's the sounds he makes when he isn't talking, the quiet moans and the hitches in his breathing. It's the way his body responds to her, with tightened muscles and twitching hips. Her hips are moving too, rolling to and fro on some long-forgotten instinct.

Reno's hand slides from her head to her shoulder.

"Getting close." He is breathing heavily, his words coming out in a hoarse whisper.

She knows what's expected of her. She keeps her rhythm, keeps going. His hand tightens on her shoulder. With a grunt he tenses, and she takes him as deep as she can so that her tongue will taste as little as possible. It's over in seconds. She swallows quickly before taking him out of her mouth, and sits back on her heels, gulping down air. Her pulse is racing, her blood humming in her ears. Stranger still, a persistent need throbs between her thighs. She didn't expect that.

Reno has let his shirt fall down, but he is still standing in front of her even though he's finished. Is he waiting for something? Uncertain, Malena rises to her feet.

To her surprise, he hoists her up in his arms and tips her over onto the bed. The skirt of her dress flutters up; he pushes it farther with his hands, all the way past her panties. In one fluid motion, he pulls them down her legs and off. He pauses long enough to yank his shirt over his head, then hops up on the mattress and bends down between her legs. His breath feels even hotter than her fevered skin, and the touch of his lips is a spark that triggers a wildfire. A heated pulse ripples through her entire body at his intimate kiss, tensing every muscle in its wake, and she raises her hips in a trembling, breathless plea for more.

It's not the first time she's experienced such a thing, but Reno has already finished. He has nothing to get her ready for, which means he must have another goal in mind. It's not the first time she's experienced _that_ either, far from it, but both at once? That's–

Malena gasps and arcs as his tongue finds the sweetest spot. Her train of thought is lost, but she doesn't care, her thoughts are too scattered now to care. Her body is in charge here, taking over, demanding to reach that rapturous peak, and sweet saints have mercy if he keeps this up he's going to bring her there. He's going to make her unravel, he'll make her let go and lose herself in his presence. Part of her is terrified of losing control so utterly with him, with anyone, but the rest of her wants it, and with every swirl of his tongue the desire grows until she _craves_ it, she needs it, she _must have it_. Her hips rock back and forth, aiding him in his efforts to get her there, her hands grasp at the sheets and the noises she makes are ones she's never heard herself make before. When it hits her, it's blinding. She knows not what she says, nor what she does; she knows nothing, except for the fierce pleasure that arcs through her whole body.

When it abates, she finds herself a limp, trembling mess. She doesn't care, because all the concern she had for such things has evaporated away, along with her thoughts. Reno moves up beside her, planting dozens of soft kisses along her arm and shoulder along the way. Her limbs may be dead weight, but her skin tingles with life, shivering pleasantly with every touch of his lips.

"I… I didn't expect…" Her throat hurts, as if she's been screaming. Did she scream?

He smirks. "That good, huh?"

Malena giggles. It just slips out of her before she can stop it. She covers her face, but that doesn't put an end to it. She's still smiling, still laughing. Reno is grinning too.

"I'm guessing that's a yes."

All she can do is nod, and they fall into an easy silence. He keeps himself propped up on an elbow, leaning down now and then for gentle kisses on her hair, her forehead, her shoulder. His other hand strokes her stomach, still bare below her bunched-up dress. Malena keeps herself still, keeps her eyes closed. If she opens them, she might find it's all just a dream.

Little by little, Reno's lips begin to linger on her skin with every kiss. A sense of purpose creeps into his caresses, but it isn't until he scoots closer to her that she realizes why. Surprised, she opens her eyes.

"Again?"

He raises his eyebrows and glances at the clock on the wall.

"We got time, don't we?"

It isn't what she meant, but the hardness he presses against her thigh is answer enough. It would be unthinkable with Tiago, but he was older than Reno when they married. Are all young men like this?

"Yes," she says, smiling. "We have time."


	4. The Depth of the Dark

So _this_ is what it's like.

Malena lies in bed, watching the window. There's a strange sense of déjá vu to it all; the same kind of afternoon light, the same stifling warmth, the same man beside her. The gratification that cradles every inch of her body in its languid embrace, though, that is new. She has never felt so weary and so physically sated, all at once. It feels as if every bone in her body has melted away, transforming her into a puddle of idle bliss.

She lolls her head toward her other shoulder, where the man who has brought her to this state is resting. Reno's eyes are closed, to shield them from the bright Costan sun filtering in through the gaps in the blinds. His mouth is curved up ever so slightly at the corners. He reminds her of a cat lounging in the sunshine. A smug, red-haired tomcat, who has wandered into a stranger's kitchen and lapped up all the milk.

His hair may have been unbrushed when she arrived, but now it looks beyond all hope. She reaches up and pushes a hand through it, watching the strands untangle around her fingers. She has never seen such a vividly red head of hair on anyone else.

"Your hair," she mumbles. "It's so red."

"Runs in the family." He cracks one eye open. "How about you? Yours is pretty red too, for this part of the world."

"It's not so unusual in my hometown," she says absently, carding her fingers through his hair again. "In San Doro."

"Where's that?"

"Up north, on the coast. It used to be important for the trade with other lands, hundreds of years ago." She smiles, rolling a strand of his hair between her thumb and forefinger. "Some of the foreign traders stayed, or… left their mark in other ways."

"Knocked up the local women, you mean?" Reno’s grin is as wicked as it is smug.

"I'm told some married women gave birth to pale children back in those days." She chuckles. "They blamed it on the foreign food the traders brought in. We still have a saying about that in San Doro. 'Dark bread makes for light skin.' "

"Dark bread? You mean that rye stuff they have up on the Northern Continent?"

"Mm-hmm." She lets her fingers travel down past his shoulder and onto his chest. It looks so pasty compared to her hand. "You have eaten lots of it, yes?"

"Hey, I'm doing my best here," he protests, though his smile doesn't leave his face. "Ain't so easy for a redhead to catch a tan, y'know."

"I like you like this. You look nothing like–"

She catches the name before it rolls off her tongue, but it's too late. The sourness of it has already spread, tainting the moment. Swallowing hard, Malena withdraws her hand and falls onto her back.

"This husband of yours," Reno says slowly. "He's Tiago Lucoza, right?"

Concern stirs in the pit of her belly. Maybe it's the way he says it. Maybe it's that he says it at all.

"Yes… Tiago Lucoza Havez." She gives him a wary look. "Have you met him?"

"Nah, just saw the name on the news." He tucks his arm under his pillow, settles down. "Sounded like Fuerza's got a major business deal lined up with some Midgar bigwigs."

"Yes. We host a party for them next week." There it is again, that "we". As if she does more than serve drinks and snacks.

"Yeah?" He peers at her out of the corner of his eye. "A big one?"

"It's just Tiago's business partners, and the Midgar people who come here for negotiations." She gives a little shrug. "Ten, fifteen people."

"What've you got planned for 'em?"

Always so eager with his questions. When has Tiago last asked her about her plans? When has he last asked her what she does with her time? It's always where, and when, and with whom.

Has it always been like this? She can't remember.

_Your head is such a sieve._

No, that's not quite right. She has the memories. She just can't trust them. Everything looks different when it's tinted by love, including memories, and she must have been in love at some point. Is she still? Doesn't love feel like… something? Most days, she doesn't feel much at all. Nothing along the lines of love, at any rate.

Malena looks over at Reno, with his fierce red hair and vivid tattoos. She studies the curve of his eyelashes, the slightly concave arc of his nose, follows his profile down to the jut of his chin. His is a boyishly handsome face, that much is plain to see, but watching it doesn't stir any particular emotion in her. It doesn't seem right. People have feelings for their lovers, don't they? Maybe she's just… broken.

Reno opens his eyes, catches her stare. He quirks an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing," she mumbles.

Her reply doesn't seem to convince him. To avoid his quizzical gaze, she turns her face toward the ceiling and watches the fan blades spin their endless circles.

"Do you go back much?" he asks after a while. "To San Doro, I mean."

He listened, earlier. It takes her a moment to swallow the surprise.

"No. Tiago says it's too expensive."

"You still have family there?"

Malena nods.

"Don't you want to see them?"

"It's fine," she sighs. "My mother is…" _Worse_. "We never got along."

"How about your dad? Brothers or sisters?"

Her chest is no longer empty. A dull ache is spreading, into every crack and hollow. An emotion at last, and it has to be this? She prefers the numbness.

"It has been years since I saw them," she says flatly.

Her sister wrote letters for a whole two years after Malena left. Half of them begged her to come back. Her father tried to call a few times, but now… It has been months since his last postcard. Years since she's heard from the rest of them. They probably think she has abandoned them all, for a life of luxury among the rich and famous in Costa del Sol.

"Do you call 'em? Keep in touch?"

Of course Reno would ask more. He always asks more. Wearily, Malena shakes her head.

"Tiago thinks that's too expensive, too."

"The guy who owns a mansion, a boat, and who knows how many fucking cars thinks a few long-distance calls are too expensive?"

He makes it sound so unfair. Is it unfair? She thought so at first, but Tiago has no patience for such accusations. She doesn't have a head for money, he says. His hard work, his rewards, he says. He is already keeping her fed and clothed with the gil he earns. The least she can do in return, he says, is keep her nagging to herself.

The ache inside her grows heavier with every breath. As Malena turns her head away, her gaze falls on the clock. With a gasp, she throws herself out of bed.

"What the hell?" Reno stares at her, looking stunned.

"I'm late!"

"Huh? For what?"

"Dinner!" she cries, rooting through the pile of clothes on the floor for the ones that belong to her. "Ohh, Tiago won't be happy!"

The floral pastels makes her dress easy to spot among Reno's things. She finds her panties on one side of the bed, her bra on the other. Her hair is a mess of tangles, but she doesn't have the time to do anything about it.

Reno pushes himself up as she gets dressed. He lets one leg dangle over the edge of the bed and bends the other, props it up with a foot on the mattress. He rests his arm on his bended knee, hunching forward as he watches her.

"Think he'll hurt you?"

"What?" Startled, she looks up at his somber face. She shakes her head as she continues her struggle with her zipper. "No. No, he wouldn't do that. But… he might tell me to spend less time at La Luz." With a fresh burst of panic, she grabs her purse and rushes to the door. "He could end my membership!"

She gathers up her shopping as she steps into her heels, trying to squeeze as much as she can into every second. Reno is still watching her.

"This husband of yours… He's a real piece of work, ain't he?"

Maybe it's the way he says it. Maybe it's the look in is eyes. Malena goes still, wasting several precious moments.

"I… I have to go."

She pushes her way out through his door without waiting for a reply.

* * *

 

Malena showers and throws on a new outfit before she starts on dinner. She has to, because she can't cook for her husband when another man's scent clings to her skin, but it costs her valuable minutes. She arrives in her kitchen with a hammering heart. She has no idea what to make. The dinner she had planned will take too long.

She tears the fridge door open and takes stock. It'll have to be simple and quick: potatoes, sausages, reheated bean stew from the day before. Tiago will complain, but it'll be worse if the food isn't waiting for him on the table.

The sausages take no time at all; she just dumps them into a frying pan and lets them take care of themselves. The same goes for the beans. The potatoes are less willing to cooperate. They keep tumbling into the sink as she rinses them, keep sliding out of her fingers as she peels them. Malena keeps glancing at the clock on the wall. Why is it so difficult? It's never taken her this long before!

The peeler slips in her hand. She gasps and flinches as the sharp metal bites into her skin, draws blood. She tears a strip out a paper towel and wraps it around the wound. She can't remember where the bandages are – _your head is such a sieve_ – and she doesn't have the time to look for them. The paper stains and grows damp from the potatoes, stings the wound. By the time she's done and the potatoes are finally in the pot, she has to waste more seconds replacing her makeshift bandage, because her blood trickles out beneath the soggy useless paper.

Next comes the glasses, the plates, the knives and forks. She grabs as much as she can carry and rushes into the dining room. She's running late, but so is he. If she works quickly, she might still have a chance. She puts down placemats at either end of the table, because she doesn't have the time for a tablecloth. As she picks up the cutlery, movement draws Malena's eye. She freezes to the spot.

Tiago towers in the doorway, blocking most of it with his barrel-like frame. He slowly unbuttons the jacket of his business suit as he surveys the glasses on the dinner table and the cutlery in her hands. As his face darkens, her breathing quickens.

"It's ten past five." He fixes her with his steely gaze. "Where's my dinner?"

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, meekly, as she continues her task. "Please, take a seat. It won't take long."

"I ask one thing of you." His voice is already rising. "Just one thing!"

"I'm almost done." She can barely hear herself over the muted clang of his fork as she hurries to place it on the table. "Just a few more minutes, please."

"So why didn't you start a few minutes earlier, huh? You knew when I was coming home!"

"I'm sorry. I forgot the time." She racks her brain for something to add that might placate him, but it's hard to think when he looms over her like a brewing storm.

"Forgot? You _forgot?_ " Tiago smacks his hand down on the table, making her flinch. "What were you doing that was so damn important that you forgot your own husband?"

She had her excuses ready for this day, prepared days in advance, but her heart is pounding too hard for her to think. She tries, she _tries_ , but her thoughts have scattered and she can't remember anything.

"N-nothing," she stammers, "I was just–"

"See, what have I told you? Your head is just one big sieve!" He rounds the table with angry strides. "I don't know why I keep you around. You don't work, you don't clean, and now you don't cook? You don't do anything!"

He isn't even listening. It doesn't matter what Malena says or what she does. She can't win this. She turns on her heel and flees into the kitchen.

"I give you my money and this is what I get?" he shouts as he marches after her. "I give you hundreds of gil I've worked my ass off to earn, just so you can go out and buy one fucking dress, and this is how you repay me?"

She keeps her back to him, because her face is burning and her eyes are brimming with tears. She pulls open a drawer and fumbles for something she can use to to dish up. She doesn't care if the food is ready or not, she just wants to put it on his plate and serve it so he'll stop following her, stop yelling at her.

"Have I ever laid a finger on you, huh? Have I?" Tiago slams his hand into the fridge door, inches from her head, and the wooden spoon she found slips out of her fingers as she jerks away. "No!" he roars. "I've been good to you! For eight fucking years I've been good to you, and all I ask in return is to have my goddamn dinner on the table when I get home! How damn hard can it be?"

The spoon isn't in the drawer anymore. She heard it clatter as it fell, but she can't find it, because she can't see. The tears surge without pause, turning her vision into a sodden blur. It's useless. It's pointless. Malena curls up and hides her face in her shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers over and over again, gasping for air between sobs. "I'm sorry!"

She jumps when Tiago grabs her by the wrist, but he just pulls her to his chest.

"Oh, honey," he croons, his roaring anger gone as if it had never existed at all. "What a mess you've made of yourself. You're always so sensitive.”

She doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t dare to do anything that might give him more fuel for his rage. He closes his arms around her, enveloping her in a cloud of his aftershave.

"Shh, just calm down. I'll forgive you, but you have to promise me it'll never happen again."

"It won't," she sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

His burly arms are tight around her, squashing her against his chest. It should comfort her, like the other times, but instead she can't breathe. His aftershave floods her nose and throat with every ragged breath, smothering her inside and out.

"Just look at yourself," he coos. "What would you do without me, huh? It's okay, I'll take care of you. I'll take good care of you."

Too tight, too warm, too strong. Malena can't breathe, and she can't get away.


	5. What Ifs

Three days pass before Malena seeks out Reno again. Three days of being as quiet as possible, as invisible as possible, before Tiago's scowling gives way to his usual indifference.

She has no coin for a payphone and doesn't dare use her PHS or the landline at home, so she goes to La Luz. She times her visit according to what she knows about Reno's shifts. He isn't the one who greets her with a smile and a towel when she arrives, but upon entering the inner garden, she spots him immediately. He gives her a smile across the pool, but doesn't change his course among the spa guests. Malena dives in and tries not to let it get to her.

As she climbs out of the pool for a break, he finally comes to her.

"Can I get you a drink today, ma'am?" 

She forgives that _ma'am_ , not because he's at work, but because he smiles and speaks with kindness. She eyes the tray he carries, filled with an array of colorful drinks.

"Will you have one, too?"

He sighs and pushes back his hair with his free hand. It seems redder than ever in the bright summer sun, and so do his cheeks.

"Sorry, don't have time for a break right now. Pretty busy today."

He juts his chin toward the guests waiting at the curved bar in the corner. A woman in a La Luz polo shirt is filling their orders behind the counter. By the main doors to the pool area, another young man in the same shirt and shorts is handing over folded towels to yet another group of guests. All around them, the air hums with dozens of conversations.

Malena quells the pang in her chest. She didn't show up for a drink by the pool, after all.

"Do you have much left of your shift?" She dabs her arms with her towel as she speaks, hoping it makes their conversation seem casual in the eyes of possible observers.

"Nah, less than an hour to go."

"Any plans for the afternoon?" She tries to keep the need out of her voice.

Reno glances around, then lowers his voice.

"You tell me, sweetness." His eyes sparkle like the pool behind him.

"Yes," Malena says, a tad unsteadily from the relief that sweeps over her. "You do."

He grins, and the sight of it makes her want to pull him down for a kiss right then and there.

"Half past one," he murmurs as he leaves. "You know the drill."

* * *

 

They keep their hands off each other until Reno's front door closes behind them. Then, all bets are off. Before Malena met Tiago she had only kissed three boys, and one of them was so chaste that it felt no different from kissing her grandmother on the cheek. Being with Reno has been… a revelation. He showers her with attention and desire, and she, starved for it, soaks it all up like the wrung-out rag she is. The past three days have left gouges in her soul, but his touch fills in the marks as if they were never there.

A muffled triplet of trills rings out. Malena's face goes cold. She pushes Reno away and scrambles for her purse, but as she fumbles around for her PHS he sneaks in behind her and wraps his arms around her.

"C'mon, sweetness," he murmurs. "Just let it ring."

"No, it might be Tiago! If I don't answer…"

She _knows_ it's him. He's called her several times over the past few days. He hasn't bothered to do it for a while, but she knows the reason for the change: that dreadful dinner three days ago.

A glance at the screen confirms it. In her rush to answer the call, Malena doesn't even think to chase Reno away before she presses the phone to her ear.

" _Hello._ " At the very last second, she remembers to say it in Costan.

_"Where are you?"_

The questions are always the same: where, how long, with whom. This is the first time she lies.

" _At La Luz_ ," she says. She can't say she's at home, because then he'll call the landline and check. " _I'm getting changed_ ," she adds, in case he's considering calling the spa, too.

_"Just you?"_

" _Just me._ " She barely bites down on a startled gasp when Reno's hand slides into her dress.

_"How long will you be?"_

His fingers push into her bra and seek out her nipple. Malena's PHS trembles in her hand, her fingers icy cold despite the summer heat. She can't move away because his other arm has her waist in a tight grip. She can't tell him to stop, or Tiago will hear. Her only hope is to end the call, as quickly as possible.

" _I'm not sure._ " Saints have mercy, please let her sound normal. " _More than an hour, I think._ "

A silence follows, but Reno's hand does not go still underneath her dress. Malena sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, forcing her breaths quiet.

_"Be home by three."_

" _Yes, Tiago. I will._ " That, at least, is no lie. She has no choice, because that's when he'll call the landline. She's sure of it.

Tiago grunts something; likely a goodbye, because he ends the call. With a shuddering breath, Malena fumbles her PHS into her purse. Before she can close the bag, it slips out of her shaky fingers and drops to the floor. She doesn't even try to catch it.

"I hate the way you talk to him." Reno's voice is low, laced with something dark that sets her senses on edge. "You don't sound like you at all." His hand squeezes hard, making her wince.

"I don't have much time," she says, hoping to steer his mind onto other tracks. "We have to be quick."

"It ain't enough that 'when' and 'where' is up to him?" He hisses it like a snake spitting venom. "You gonna let him decide how we fuck, too?"

Before she can answer, he dips his head down and sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

"No, don't!" she gasps, panicking, but he has already released her.

"Who cares if I mark you, huh?" he growls in her ear. "You said he doesn't come near you anymore."

"It's summer! He has eyes in his head! I can't cover up something like that!"

"Then I guess I gotta do something else to make sure you remember me."

He shunts her forward with his body, shoving her up against the door. He's strong – _as strong as Tiago_ – his chest like a wall that keeps her trapped. Malena can't breathe. Her thoughts are slipping out of her grasp. She can't think, not with his body pinning her like this, can't figure out what to say or do to make him stop, so she resorts to a tactic she learned years ago.

"Take me hard," she urges. "Make me forget about him."

He responds with a wordless growl. He grabs her hips and pulls them away from the door, flings the skirt of her dress onto her back. His hands leave her, but only briefly. She gasps when he yanks her panties to her knees, which turns into a surprised cry when he slams home. He gives her no time to adjust, no time at all. Her hands scrape at the door, grasp at whatever she can find, as she tries to brace herself against his onslaught.

His hand is in her hair, seizing, twisting, tugging at her scalp. His other one rakes down her back – _fingertips only, oh thank the saints, no nails_ – digging his fingers into her flesh. He's strong, so much stronger than she expected or imagined, everything about him hard and forceful as he takes what he wants. This is what she knows, and she knows it well. A twisted gratification is building, even as tears pool in her eyes.

He reaches around her with one hand, slides it between her thighs. His touch is rough, but her body is a bundle of anxious energy that clamors for release, for any kind of relief. Seduced by the primal beat of his thrusts and grunts, her needy body already teeters at the brink, and his fingers transform the promise of dark pleasure into a fervor she can't contain. It grows and swells, until it bursts free and drowns her in its revelry. With a hoarse cry, Reno follows moments later.

It abates as soon as it strikes. Malena leans heavily against the door, her knees soft and her legs trembling. He has hidden his face in the crook of her neck, where his lips plant one tender kiss after another on her flushed skin.

"Oh, Lena." He breathes it out like sigh, then laughs. "Fuck, that was hot."

His hands are gentle again, holding and stroking. She can't wrap her mind around it.

He kisses her right below her ear, then pulls away. She stands there, stunned and numb, until he switches on the ceiling fan. The breeze that chills her damp skin is finally enough to bring her out of her daze. She fumbles down the skirt of her dress, straightens the shoulder straps, adjusts her bra. Her purse has been kicked under one of the tall chairs by the window. She totters over and picks it up, but before she can head for the door, Reno lays his hand on her shoulder.

"You're going already? You just got here."

His thumb draws slow circles on her skin. It should be a pleasant touch.

"I have to be home by three." Her voice sounds flat and dull. "He'll call."

"It's barely two." Reno slides his fingers down her arm and clasps her hand. "C'mon, stay a while. Ain't no rush yet."

She lets him bring her to the bed, sits down beside him. Her legs thank her, but her mind is a tangle. When he backs up and lies down, she drops her purse and follows suit, because she can't think of anything else she can do. He scoots close and drapes an arm across her waist.

"Something wrong, sweetness?"

She's in his arms, cocooned in his scent and warmth. It's what she wanted, but all she can think about is Tiago's smothering embrace three days ago.

"Too rough, was it?" His voice is soft, as is his touch.

"No," she says, because she assumes it's the answer he wants. "It's just…" She looks over at the clock, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Relax, Lena. You got plenty of time." With a finger on her chin, he guides her face back to his. He smiles, though there's something wry about it. "What's the deal with this damn curfew, anyway? Your husband wants you back for afternoon nookie or something?"

She doesn't know that word, but she can guess its meaning. The thought of it turns her stomach.

"He won't touch me," she mutters. "You know that."

"What's wrong with the guy?"

He's full of quips and smiles and concern again. It's as if the side of him she saw mere minutes ago never existed. It nags in the back of her mind, pointing at parallels she'd rather ignore, and strains the smile she puts on for him. Hopefully he won't notice. The smile is bitter to begin with.

"He thinks it's a waste of time. It hasn't given him all those tiny Tiagos he wanted."

" _He_ wanted, huh? Not you?"

Reno actually pays attention to her words. That's a difference she keeps forgetting.

"It doesn't matter what I want." She intends it to be a simple statement of fact, but her voice breaks.

"Oh, c'mon–"

"Maybe it's better this way," she says quickly. "What kind of a mother would I be, anyway? I'm too sensitive, too weak, too–"

She cuts off when she feels his hand on her cheek. He turns her head to face him.

"Is that what you think, or what he told you?"

Malena's breath sticks in her throat. His voice is gentle, as is his hand on her face. Maybe that is why it's so hard to break away. She wants that touch. She _longs_ for it.

"Is that why you go swimming at La Luz, of all places? Because he told you to? Does he tell you what to wear? Where to go, what to eat? Who you can talk to, and who you can't?"

His voice rises as he speaks. Malena's chest feels tight and her breaths grow short, but she can't pull away.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?"

The blue of his eyes is impossibly vivid, as if they are bright enough to pierce straight through her to the heart of her being. Yet if they could, why, _why_ would he ask a question like that? The swell of resentment is finally enough for her to tear away from those eyes and yank her head out of his reach.

"Why? Because I'm chained to him!" She laughs bitterly. "I'm stuck with him until he gets one of his other women pregnant and throws me out in the street."

"Why the hell wait, then? Why don't you just leave?"

She shoves herself up on her elbow and twists around to glare at him.

"And do what?" she spits. "I have no money, no friends, no job. Where would I go? To you?"

A silence falls, brimming with tension. Malena's face prickles, feeling both hot and cold at once. She didn't mean to raise her voice. She didn't mean to let her spite just spill free like that, but what's done is done and now she must pay the price.

But Reno isn't like Tiago. He opens his mouth. Closes it, opens it again.

"I'm leaving at the end of summer," he finally says. "You know that."

"And in Midgar, there's no place for me?" It's more of a demand than a question.

He looks away, rubs the back of his neck.

"Look, Lena. I like you, okay? But we've only known each other for, what? A month now?"

It feels like a slap in the face. Malena sags back down as the fight in her fizzles out. She suspected; no, she _knew_ , but the human mind will forever be a foolish thing, always hoping against hope for the impossible. She should know better by now. She, of all people, should know better.

"So you'll do nothing," she whispers, staring at the front door. "How nice it must be to see the rain and not get wet."

"It's not that simple, okay? I wanna help, I really do, but…"

"But you're just a pool boy at La Luz," she finishes for him. "What can you possibly do?"

Her eyes sting, filling with hot tears. She blinks them away, swallows them down. Beside her, Reno sighs.

"I'm sorry."

"It is okay. It isn't your problem."

Except it isn't okay, and it will never be okay. Her anger is heavy in her chest. The weight of it has only grown over the years, never lessened. Sooner or later it will pull her down and drown her, and there is nothing, _nothing_ she can do about it. Malena turns around in Reno's arms and meets his eyes. She is surprised to find they actually seem sad.

"Kiss me, _querido_ ," she pleads, her voice thick with the tears she swallowed down. "Help me forget him again."

And he does. Oh, how he does.

* * *

 

It's late. How late it is, that Malena doesn't know. Late enough to be dark outside. Late enough for her to have been tossing and turning in bed for hours.

The moisture that keeps pooling in her eyes finally brims over; slowly at first, but the trickles soon grow into steady rivulets that run silently down her face. Crying again. Always crying, even when she doesn't feel much of anything at all. There has to be something wrong with her.

It's Reno who occupies her thoughts. Of course it is. Every time she tries to imagine him under the sheets, pressed up snugly behind her, she instead remembers his weight pinning her to the wall and the darkness in his voice as he growled in her ear. Part of her doesn't trust that the memories are what she thinks they are. The part that believes them doesn't really _want_ to. Reno is sweet and kind; that's what she wants to believe, what she wants from him. He's nothing like Tiago.

_I don't know why I keep you around._

Is that why she can't stay away from Reno? Because he makes her… _want_ something? Makes her feel a little less broken?

With a choked sob, Malena turns her face away from the window. Is that all it takes? A man hands her a crumb of kindness and she will follow him into bed, without a second thought for the love and fidelity she has pledged in her vows to another? No wonder Tiago keeps her on such a short leash. She makes a terrible wife.

_Is that what you think, or what he told you?_

There is another explanation for Reno's behavior, one that worsens the burn behind her eyelids. Maybe it wasn't him, but _her_. What if Tiago was right all along and she's the one who brings this out in him? Maybe Reno _was_ sweet and kind, until he spent too much time with her. He didn't know she was married the first time, did he? She tricked him, whether she meant to or not. She lured him into this, twisted his kindness.

_Is that what you think, or what he told you?_

Silent tears spill down her cheeks. Reno's words refuse to go away. Maybe they would if she had an answer to give, but she doesn't. She doesn't know what to think. She doesn't even know which thoughts are her own anymore.

* * *

 

When the alarm blares in the morning, Malena can barely muster the strength to silence it, let alone drag herself out of bed. She has to, though. Tiago expects his breakfast at seven thirty.

Her bedroom comes with its own bathroom, tiled in peach with bronze fittings. Malena takes a shower, dries her hair. The mirror above the sink is as wide as the triple-door cabinet beneath it, but she barely looks at herself. She sees the shadows under her puffy eyes and the paleness of her cheeks and lips, and begins the task of hiding it all under her makeup. It doesn't take long. It's routine by now.

Once she's done, she pricks her ears and holds her breath. When all she hears is a few quiet drips from the shower, she pulls out one of the sink cabinet's bottom drawers, then drops down on one knee and reaches in. Right away, her fingers find the sheet of pills she keeps wedged into the frame of the drawer above. With a practised twist of her wrist, she pulls them out.

Malena meant to pop one out and tuck them back into their hiding place, but instead she runs her fingertips over the rows of plastic bubbles. Tiago hasn't touched her in months. By the end of summer, it'll be a whole year. Before Reno swaggered into her life, her precaution had begun to feel needless, but… She can never be sure. Tiago might show up drunk some night, or in a bad mood. She just can't take that risk.

Yet still she hesitates. She wanted a family once, before she discovered what kind of a man she had married. She buried that yearning, deeper and deeper with every swallowed pill, but… now she has the perfect opportunity to bring a spark of light into her gloomy life. A child that she can look at without seeing her husband in their face. All she has to do is put the sheet back and leave it there.

Reno doesn't even need to know. He will leave her, after all. He'll go back to Midgar, and she'll be stuck with her husband. She has to think about her future. Tiago might be kinder to her, if she finally produces a child.

But it has been too long since Tiago touched her. For the ruse to work, she would have to bring him to her bed again, or _he_ would certainly know.

Malena pops out a pill and swallows it, along with the bile that rises in the back of her throat.


	6. Seeds of Doubt

Malena runs her hand along the edge of the table. It's set with a cluster of tall wine glasses, next to a trio of bottles. She goes over her to-do list as she smoothes out the tablecloth. This table is ready, as is the one closer to the patio doors, which has the pitcher of red sangria surrounded by the chubby short-stemmed glasses. She'll bring out the cocktail snacks once the first guests arrive.

"Finally got the wine out, yes?"

Malena gives a little start. She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear him approach. Tiago doesn't seem to notice; he reaches for a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass.

"Yes," she tells him. "Everything is ready."

"You expect me to take your word for it?" He scoffs. "Come on, give me the details."

"The food is waiting in the fridge." She keeps her voice calm despite the warmth spreading on her cheeks. "Spicy meatballs, stuffed olives, sautéed prawns, mild marinated green peppers, and sausages cooked in red wine." All of it served with freshly-baked country bread – a menu tailored to both Tiago's tastes and those of his Midgar guests.

Tiago's eyes roam down her body as he rolls a mouthful of wine over his tongue. She's wearing the green dress she bought last week, along with an old set of emerald jewelry and black heels. She doesn't want Tiago's opinion – _she wants Reno's_ – but it's what she's going to get. He purses her lips and swallows.

"Bit short, isn't it?"

Malena tries to push her dress farther down, but the hem remains at her knees.

"I'm sorry. They're all like this in summer."

He hums and takes another swig. His mind is on his guests, so his evaluation is little more than a cursory effort. An emerald clip glints on his tie, matching her jewelry. It's all part of the act. All show, no substance, like most of what Tiago does.

The doorbell dings, and Tiago pushes past her. Malena tidies the wine glasses to hide the gap he left, then heads to the kitchen. It's time for her to smile and serve drinks.

* * *

 

About an hour into the party, Malena is replacing empty wine bottles when a man approaches the table, glass in hand.

"Red or white?" she asks with a well-rehearsed smile.

"Red, please." He holds out his glass. "You certainly have your hands full, my dear," he says as she pours his wine, raising his voice to be heard over the boisterous chatter of the rest of Tiago's guests at his back. "I've barely caught a glimpse of you all evening."

"I'm happier in the kitchen. Not so noisy, yes?" She says it breezily, with her smile firmly in place. She has a whole array of half-truths to serve along with the drinks.

"Ah. Our loss, my dear."

She responds with another polite smile. Her task finished, she sets the bottle on her tray, along with a few dirty glasses. She intends to move on to the next table, but when she looks up, the man is still there. Tall and lean, he smiles at her like an affable scarecrow.

"My name is Roger." He offers his empty hand. "Roger Biggs. I'm one of Fuerza's guests from Midgar."

As Malena shakes his hand, she finally takes a good look at him. His face is sharply carved and ruddy, likely from the wine as well as the Costan sun. His eyes seem as dark as his charcoal suit, though that could be a trick of the waning evening light.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Biggs. I am Malena Padiz Hierra."

He leans a little closer, squinting at her. Along with his silvery hair, it makes her think he isn't far from retirement age.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I thought you were Mr. Lucoza's wife."

She isn't surprised by his confusion. She has met enough easterners to guess the reason for it.

"I am. Our names do not change when we marry."

"Oh, I see." He smiles as he straightens back up. "Learn something new every day, eh?"

He lets go of her hand, but doesn't make his excuses. Malena casts a nervous glance over his shoulder, but Tiago appears to be regaling a handful of guests with some anecdote. Perhaps she can spare a few minutes to satisfy her curiosity.

"There is something I wish to learn, too," she tells Mr. Biggs. "In your city, are face tattoos common?"

" _Face_ tattoos?" He belts out a hearty laugh. "Oh, no, my dear. That sounds like the sort of thing slummers might do. I'm afraid we have a bit of a problem with unsavory types beneath our plate."

"Un… savory?"

"Oh, like bikers, thugs, criminals… People who are up to no good, you know?"

Malena's stomach dips.

"Oh."

It would explain a few things, like how Reno's speech changes when the two of them are alone. She has never heard any of Tiago's Midgar associates talk with that kind of drawl.

"Though just between you and me…" Mr. Biggs leans closer and lowers his voice to a murmur. "…I saw a Shinra Turk with tattoos on his face once."

"Shinra?" she repeats, confused. "You mean the company?"

She expects him to correct her, but instead he nods eagerly.

"At least I think they were tattoos. Just a pair of red lines under his eyes, like this." He plants a thin finger by the corner of his eye and draws a curve on his cheekbone. "Bright red, just like his hair. Hard to miss, that one."

Malena stares. She just stares, until she realizes what's she's doing.

"Oh… That's…" She fumbles for something to say, until her mind latches on to the other unfamiliar word he has used. "A 'Turk', you said?"

"Yes, one of Shinra's suits. No one knows exactly what they do, but…" He glances over his shoulders. "They're definitely the kind that's up to no good." With a conspiratorial wink, he straightens up again.

"Malena, darling!"

She flinches at the boom of Tiago's voice beside her.

"What has got you so spooked, huh?" The foreign language forces him to take care with his pronunciation and slows his speech. "Are you two whispering secrets behind my back?"

He laughs, joined heartily by Mr. Biggs, but the look he gives her feels like ice in her gut.

"It is nothing, dear." She manages a smile. "Mr. Biggs was just telling me about Midgar."

"You're scaring my wife with your tales?" Tiago claps Mr. Biggs on the shoulder, who looks like a stick figure next to him. "Come, let's have a drink. I wish to hear your stories too, friend."

Miraculously, Malena makes it back to the kitchen without dropping a single thing from her tray. She sets it down on the counter, then slumps back against it. She doesn't know what to make of it. She has never heard of Turks, or slummers, or whatever it is that goes on beneath Midgar's plate.

She has heard of Shinra, though. Many, many times.

* * *

 

The party is over. Malena wanders through the empty house, stacking up glasses and plates on her tray. Her feet ache, and her back, but she needs to finish cleaning up before bed. Tiago can't stand having a house that looks like a pig trough.

She hears the faint thud of the front door that signals the departure of their last guest. Soon after, Tiago shows up. He remains in the doorway, leaning on the frame as he watches her pick up after his guests.

"So…What were you and Biggs talking about?" His words are soft around the edges, likely from the wine.

"I told you," she mutters. "He told me about Midgar."

"Is that so? He told you what about Midgar?"

She stifles a sigh. She's too tired for his games.

"He didn't have time to tell me much before you showed up." A connection sparks in her brain. Tiago has been to Midgar, several times. On business. "He mentioned the slums," she adds, trying for a casual tone, "and Shinra… Something called a 'Turk', too."

His face darkens.

"Turks, huh?"

He's glaring at the floor, not her, so she hazards another question.

"You've heard of them? Who are they?"

"Nothing but thugs in suits, if you ask me." He shoves off the doorframe and comes in. "The less you know about them, the better."

The conversation is frustratingly opaque, but it's clear that Tiago thinks it has reached its end. With a sigh, Malena turns back to her tray.

"Now be a good girl and get me a drink. These parties wipe me out."

His palm lands on her bottom with a loud smack. She gasps and jumps, but he just pushes past her and sinks into his leather chair by the TV.

She stares at him, open-mouthed, as she rubs the sting out of her behind. It's not the smack that startles her so much as the fact that he did it at all. Is it because she talked to Mr. Biggs? Is it her questions?

But churning in the pit of her stomach is a far uglier question. What if a slap on the ass isn't the end of it? It never was, before. A smack would turn into a lingering grope, and after that it was never long before Tiago's hands would wander elsewhere.

Malena hurries to the lounge where a half-full bottle of whiskey sits surrounded by a disorderly array of tumblers. She makes it a double. She brings the bottle, too, and leaves it within his reach. With any luck, it'll be enough to make him fall asleep in his chair until morning.

Sleep eludes her, though, once she's finally finished rounding up stained tablecloths and dirtied dishes. She lies in her bed and listens for footsteps, until sheer exhaustion finally sinks her into restless slumber.

* * *

 

Malena stays away from La Luz for days. At first it's from a crippling lack of sleep, but as she recovers, the doubts begin to play a larger part. The worst part is the lie. Not the ones Reno may have told her with his words, but the big one. The only one that matters, really. If Reno is one of these Shinra Turks, he didn't seek her out because he wanted _her_.

_It makes sense._ The thought gnaws at her, no matter how hard she tries to ignore it. _Why else would anyone look twice at you?_

But as time passes and the void inside her grows, her doubts shift onto Mr. Biggs instead. What if he was mistaken, or merely trying to scare her like Tiago had joked? What if she had misunderstood what he said? Reno might not be the only Midgar man with red hair and tattoos, after all. The gaps between the few tidbits she knows are so wide, but of one thing she is certain. If she never sees Reno again, those gaps will never be filled.

Malena doesn't try to fool herself, though. She knows it's the void inside her that needs filling, really. She knows she's weak. Tiago is right about that.

When she returns to La Luz, Reno isn't there. She changes into her bathing suit and does her laps in the pool, but when she's done and ready to leave, he still isn't there. She could go home. She probably _should_ go home, but she doesn't. She sneaks around the back of the spa and knocks on his cabin door.

_So_ weak.

The door opens. Reno stands in the doorway, squinting against the sunlight.

"Oh, hey there, Lena."

He looks surprised. He isn't wearing a shirt. The next step in this script ought to be finding another woman wrapped up in his sheets, trying to hide behind his back. Isn't that the way it's supposed to go, when dropping in on your lover unannounced? Or maybe that only applies to husbands – because all Malena finds is a happy grin on Reno's face, as he holds the door open for her.

"Come on in, sweetness."

She looks around his room as she steps inside, trying to see it with open eyes. What do the blue running shoes by the door tell her about the man she knows as Reno? What about the mugs in the sink, or the t-shirts heaped on the floor, or the La Luz shift schedule taped to the fridge? Nothing new, that's what. She looks to the man instead. The same rowdy hair and the same handsome face, now with the beginnings of a tan. She examines the curves by his eyes, but to her they're still just decorative slashes of color, devoid of any sinister meaning. Nothing stands out, except perhaps that he is studying her with similar caution.

"Ain't seen you for a while," he remarks. "Everything okay at home?"

"At home… is what it is," she says with a wry smile. "But I'm fine. I've just had a lot to do."

With a sigh, Reno looks at his feet.

"Was getting a bit worried there," he admits, grasping the back of his neck. "Thought your Tiago might've caught wind of us, or I'd scared you off or something."

"I was busy. Tired." She wants to say 'it wasn't you', but that feels like a lie too far. Instead she steps closer and brushes her fingertips across his bare chest. "But I'm ready to make it up to you now, yes?"

He smiles and cups her cheek. "Was hoping you might say that."

His kiss is sweet, so sweet, like the first sip of honeyed tea. She flattens her hands against his bare back, savors the smooth choreography of his muscles as they coil under her palms.

"I missed you," he murmurs as he pulls her into his embrace, and by the saints above how she wants to believe it's the truth.

* * *

 

Malena lies in bed and gazes at the sky, or the thin blue strips she can see of it through the blinds. This is something of a habit, now; maybe it's not too strong a word to call it an addiction. Not to the sky, of course, but to the mysterious man beside her.

The sun has traveled far enough across the sky to be visible from Reno's window. A red hot sun, stoked by the peak of summer. Eventually the summer will come to an end and the sun's warmth will fade… and Reno will fly away across the sea, back to his Midgar home.

And what will that entail? Malena strokes a fingertip along the crimson curve underneath his eye. The return to some gang of thugs below the plate of Midgar? Perhaps a different breed of thugs above the plate, the kind that wears suits?

"What will you do," she says quietly, "when you're no longer folding towels at La Luz?"

"Once I'm back in Midgar, you mean?" He shrugs. "Oh, I dunno. A bit of this, a bit of that. Whatever pays the bills, yo."

Her fingers travel down his face, the side of his neck, all the way to his chest. They find a ridge, a line of hardened skin about as long as her thumb. The scar is one of many, engraved into his body all over.

"Is that what gave you these?" she asks, tracing it gently with a fingertip. "'Whatever pays the bills'?"

He chuckles.

"A couple, maybe. Most of 'em are just from me being a dumb kid who had to learn things the hard way."

He grabs her hand and presses a quick kiss to her fingers before he rolls over and gets up. She lets her eyes trail after him until the bathroom door clicks shut between them.

What does it mean to 'learn things the hard way'? Gang fights below the Midgar plate, like Mr. Biggs had insinuated? Trouble with the law? She can't picture it, just like she can't picture him unsettling Midgar's wealthy businessmen with whatever it is a Shinra Turk might do. But that doesn't mean it isn't true. She remembers the boys from her hometown, posturing at each other, mouthing off until their hormones boiled over. Her brother was one of them; perhaps her father was one of them too, once upon a time. If he got himself into trouble like that, she has to assume that anyone can.

And hasn't she too let her passions get in the way of her sense, back when she was young and foolish? She left her home and family behind, and for what? A naive belief in love and happily ever after? She remembers fantasizing that when she'd finally give herself to a man, he would sigh her name as he made love to her, or moan it, or even cry it out to the heavens. Oh, how short of that fantasy the reality had fallen. She tried to say Tiago's name once, after waiting a dozen times in vain. It went unanswered. Knowing him the way she knows him now, it probably went completely unheard, too.

Reno hasn't said her name, either. Maybe this is a lesson she has yet to learn.

The bathroom door opens. Reno pauses for a lazy stretch, clasping his hands above his head, then looks over at the kitchen corner.

"I could go for a coffee. You want one?"

"Yes. Thank you."

As he gets to work, Malena pushes up to a sitting position, propping herself against the headboard at her back. She leaves the sheet where it lies, draped haphazardly over her legs. It would feel silly to cover herself when he isn't wearing anything either.

"So, how was the party?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Party?"

"Weren't you putting together some kinda… cocktail party last week? For a bunch of business suits?"

He makes it sound so natural, like nothing more than a bit of idle chatter to fill the silence. Last week she wouldn't have thought twice about such a question. She might even have been flattered by it.

"It was tiring," she says. "And tiresome. That's the right word, yes?"

He chuckles. "Sure sounds like it, if it's just a bunch of suits talking business." He switches the coffeemaker on and turns around. "You served booze at this shindig, though, right? I mean, wouldn't be much of a cocktail party without the cocktails, yo."

Her face feels hot, and not just from the sun. When he leans back against the counter like that, Reno puts all of his nude glory on shameless display.

"No cocktails. Just wine, sangria, brandy, whiskey…"

"Whoooa." He draws it out, laughing. "Now that's more like it. Did you catch wind of any juicy secrets, then? You'd think that much booze would set some tongues a-wagging."

She is suddenly glad of his lack of shame. Her face must already be red, and masking this fresh wave of discomfort.

"I just serve the drinks," she mumbles.

As she looks away, she notices his PHS on the nightstand. She's no expert on tech, but she does know that portable phones like these are new and pricey on the private market. How expensive is a PHS in Midgar? The scratches and dents on his speak of a careless and indifferent owner, yet the sleek design of it makes her own phone look clunky and cheap. His looks more like the latest models flaunted by the businessmen Tiago drags home for his cocktail parties… and their earnings have to be many times that of a pool attendant.

"You know, if you ever wanna add cocktails to the menu," Reno drawls, "I know a guy who makes a mean Costan Sunrise."

The surprise is enough to make her stare at him.

"You?"

His impish grin grows.

"Just saying that if you wanna say 'fuck you' to your hubby in style, I could use the extra gil from a bartending gig."

She laughs as if this is a joke, yet she can't shake the feeling it carries a kernel of genuine intent. A tiny seed, planted in her mind and left there to germinate; though what it is meant to grow into, she does not know.

What other seeds has he planted already? Malena remembers him asking after her family and San Doro, remembers him questioning her and Tiago's finances – or the lack of them, rather. Remembers him bringing up Tiago's cars, his yacht.

She has never mentioned those to him.

"They were from Midgar," she offers, just to see how he'll react. "Our guests last week."

"Yeah? Anyone I might've heard of?"

"Probably not, unless you know this field. Their company is not as big as Shinra."

"C'mon, try me." His smile is broad, easy. "I'm curious."

"Well, I did speak to a Mr. Biggs. Roger Biggs."

She watches carefully, but his face remains blank as she says the name.

"Yeah, doesn't ring a bell." With a shrug, he turns toward the cabinet with the mugs. "He a friend of Tiago's?"

"I don't think so. I haven't seen him before."

"Does the guy even _have_ friends, anyway? He sounds like an asshole to me." He sends her a grin over his shoulder. "I might be biased, though."

Malena responds with one of her polite smiles.

"Yes. You might be."

It isn't love that has brought Reno into her life. Not even a crush; not on his part, anyway. An infatuated man wouldn't discuss his lover's husband as if he were just some mutual acquaintance. It could be lust, of course, lust and convenience. But his questions, and the topics he brings up… Now that she knows what to look for, she sees the pattern that they weave.

Reno will fly away soon, that is inevitable. When he does… what will she have left?


	7. The Devil You Know, the One You Don't

The dining room is silent, except for the quiet clink of Malena's fork on her plate and the occasional rustle of Tiago's newspaper. He ignores, and she watches. It's a morning much like any other. 

"Everything is ready for the weekend, yes?"

"The wine will arrive later today," she reports. "I have most of what I need for the dinner, and I'll–"

"Do you really need that many words to say 'yes'?"

Malena grits her teeth and lowers her gaze to her plate. She prods the steamed carrots on her plate with her fork, until he speaks up again.

"I'll be away next week, too. Business in Junon."

"Will you be long?"

Tiago pops the last bite of of his sandwich into his mouth and chews. Malena waits.

"A week," he says once he has swallowed it. "I'll take the yacht."

She looks away. A "business" trip, then. Probably with that secretary of his.

"Is there a problem?" His voice has acquired an edge. He's watching her. Perhaps he can guess what she is thinking.

"If you're away a week, I'll need money," she says quickly, using the first excuse that comes to mind. "For groceries."

"Just fill the cupboards before I go." He reaches for the second sandwich on his plate. "You can plan for one lousy week, can't you?"

"But what if something comes up?"

"Then call me and I'll take care of it!" He throws up his hands. "For crying out loud, it's not hard!"

Malena bites her tongue again. It seems to be one of those mornings.

When Tiago raises his newspaper, Malena comes face to face with the page that lists the results from the previous day's chocobo races. As she scans them out of habit, the question returns that has plagued her for so many weeks. When the summer ends and Reno leaves, what will she have left?

Before she has time to talk herself out of it, Malena clears her throat.

"I've been following the races," she begins, speaking quickly. "Golden Folly's had a very promising season for such a young chocobo. He regularly places third and second in the Saucer races, and it won't be long before he'll be taking the main prize. The bird is a born champion–"

Tiago lowers his paper, already sneering.

"You want me to buy you a pet bird now?"

"I heard the owner recently registered him for breeding," she pushes on. "The rooster fee is very reasonable for now, but that'll change when he wins his first title at the Saucer. This is the best time–"

"Cute," he cuts in. "That's real cute."

"What?" she blurts, having lost her train of thought.

He rolls his eyes. "You can't have children of your own, so now you think raising baby birds will fix it?"

It cleaves through her defenses, because she doesn't expect it. She needs a moment to muster her resolve.

"It's… a good business opportunity–" she tries, even as her voices wavers, but Tiago belts out a laugh that silences her.

"Oh honey, you're in over your head. What do _you_ know about racing birds?"

"My great-uncle–"

"This guy again?" Tiago smacks down his meaty fist, sandwich still in hand. "Did I ask about your great-uncle? Did I? Huh?"

He stares at her, waiting. He'll keep staring and waiting, asking the same question over and over until she gives in.

"No," Malena says quietly.

"Yeah, that's right. I asked what _you_ know. So, what do _you_ know?"

She drops her gaze until she is staring at her puny carrots. She knows how this will go. If she tries to bring up the summers she spent looking after her great-uncle's racing birds, Tiago will laugh and call them the silly fantasies of a little girl who needs to grow up. If she tries to give him the numbers she's worked out, he'll laugh even harder and say she's _adorable_ when she tries to play at business.

"Never mind," she mutters. "It was just a thought."

Tiago chuckles as he snaps up his newspaper.

"Honey, you should leave the thinking to me. I'm happy to take care of everything." He glances at her over the page. "That even includes you."

It's his look that finally breaks something inside her. She shoves back her chair and marches to the door.

"Where are you going?"

She doesn't have an excuse prepared. The thunder of her pulse is too loud in her head for her to think one up.

"I'm heading into town," she tells him to his face. "Doctor's appointment."

He narrows his eyes.

"Since when do you have a doctor's appointment?"

"Since last week. I told you."

She has never tried such a bold-faced lie before. Her body feels like it's vibrating, ready to take off at any second, at a run or even in flight; in that moment, anything seems possible.

Tiago scoffs and returns to his newspaper. "Well, is it any damn wonder I don't hear what you say, the way you keep mumbling all the time? Speak up, like normal people."

Malena turns to leave, before the look on her face will give her away. Never could admit to a mistake. Never could admit he is wrong. How has it taken her so long to see that? To _use_ that?

"Change that dress before you go, will you?" he calls after her. "You look terrible in green. Makes you look like a fat witch."

Her budding smile wilts. She rushes up the stairs before he can say anything else.

* * *

 

Malena stares at herself in her bedroom mirror. The fabric shimmers in the light from the window, like a waterfall in green. It's a lovely dress. It suits her.

Or so she thought.

Her sense of triumph is long gone, washed away by a tidal wave of remorse. What if Tiago is right, and she is wrong? What if he's right about everything? He is right not to trust her, after all. She's lying to him, cheating on him. She even steals from him.

Is it her after all? Is it all her fault? Maybe it would have turned out differently if she'd given him the children he wanted. The children _she_ wanted, too. If she'd never started taking those pills, she wouldn't need to steal from him. If she'd kept him happy, maybe he would never have cheated on her. Maybe she would never have needed to cheat on him.

Malena's throat is closing. She tears her gaze from the thieving, lying cheater she sees in the mirror and opens her closet. As she shuffles through the hangers for something else to wear – _that doesn't make her look like a fat witch_ – she comes upon a blue dress. _The_ blue dress, the one Tiago won't let her forget. It's not one she would pick for this occasion even if it would still fit; it's a long evening gown, covered in glimmering sequins and pearls. Tiago picked it out for her. She wouldn't have chosen a dress like that on her own; it is cut far too low for her liking, both front and back. It always made her feel like she's putting everything she has on display. It is what Tiago accused her of, too, once it was just the two of them in their honeymoon suite. She was the one who enjoyed it, he claimed. The one who _invited_ it. She was the one at fault.

Her heart thumps her ribs like a hammer. Malena closes her eyes and tries to calm herself, but the hurt won't go away. It swells and swells, until she just can't take it anymore. With a choked sob she rips the blue dress off the hanger. She yanks and pulls and twists, until in a sparkling burst of sequins, it tears in two. She throws it back into the closet and stumbles backwards, until her knees hit the edge of her bed and she sags down on it.

She could never make him happy. Never has it stared her in the face so clearly. Tiago blamed her from the start, for everything. She should have listened to her father, to her sister. She should never have left San Doro.

But she didn't listen to them. She left, and now she is stuck with the life she chose.

The room seems smaller with every breath, as if each lungful of air pulls the walls a little closer. She has to get out of there before they fall in on her, and there is only one place she can go. She can't use her PHS, though, nor the home phone. There is a third option, though. Tiago wouldn't examine the records of the landline in his locked office.

When she checks downstairs, she finds the house empty. Tiago has left for the day.

The locks on the bedrooms upstairs are simple. Malena uses a hairpin to open Tiago's bedroom door, and a chair to reach the spare key hidden on top of his dresser. With it she unlocks his office and sneaks in.

It feels like entering a sanctum. Everything inside, from the creased leather expanse of his mahogany furniture to the picture frames of gleaming gold, flaunts his financial success. As she approaches the desk by the window, she picks up on a whiff of cigar smoke and the bitter scent of his aftershave. It kicks her heart into a gallop. Her trembling fingers dial Reno's number into the phone of the desk. Thankfully, he's just as quick to pick up as the first time.

_"Yo, Reno here."_

"It's Malena."

_"Hey there, sweetness. What's up?"_

He sounds pleased. Malena takes a moment to steady both her voice and her nerves before she speaks.

"Can I see you?"

_"Sure, no problem. Your place?"_

"No, yours," she says quickly. It's bad enough that she has to swallow Tiago's ghostly presence with every breath as she talks to him on the phone. "When are you home?"

_"I'm home right now. Got the afternoon shift today."_

Malena checks the time: quarter to ten.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

_"Can't wait, sweetheart."_

On her way out she returns Tiago's key to its hiding place and tidies away all traces of her intrusion. She stops by her own bedroom before she leaves, too. In the back of a drawer she finds what she's seeking; a pair of stay-up stockings and a matching set of lacy lingerie. Slipping them on fills her with a twisted sense of satisfaction. If only Tiago knew who she's _inviting_ now, and what. She doesn't change out of the green dress, though. It's _his_ opinion of it that she wants, not Tiago's.

* * *

 

Reno pulls her into his arms as soon as she sets foot in his cabin. She hopes he's been thinking about her, because what he presses against her lower belly is undeniably hard. He finds the hem of her dress, slips both his hands underneath. As they reach the lace at the top of her stockings, his face lights up with a wolfish grin. He takes a step back and lifts up her skirt.

"Well, well," he purrs. "Looks like someone got herself all dolled up for the occasion."

As much as Malena was hoping for that lusty glint in his eyes, she can't help but squirm under his gaze.

"Do… you like it?"

"Fuck yes." In the blink of an eye he's upon her again, his mouth hot on the side of her neck. "You look fucking fantastic," he growls against her skin. "Like a queen in green."

With a sigh of relief, she threads her fingers through his fiery hair. It's so easy to let herself get swept away, high on his intoxicating desire, when he caresses her with both his touch and his words. If that makes her weak, then so be it. Today she is weak beyond the point of caring.

"Turn around," Reno pants, hitching up her skirt. "I gotta have you right now."

Malena's eyes have drifted halfway shut, but at that they fly open. Her face pressed up against a solid door, pinned between it and an unyielding body. Harsh breaths on her neck, rough hands groping, teeth sinking into her–

"No!" Blindsided by the memory, she blurts it out without thinking.

Reno's hands go still. He draws back to look at her face.

"No?"

Malena teeters on the verge of panic, grasping for some placating excuse to offer, but she sees concern in his face, not annoyance. It calms her enough to attempt something more truthful.

"Not like that. I want to see you."

"Yeah?"

With his hands on her hips he guides her backwards, in between the chairs by the window, until the back of her legs touch the wall. She squeals, clutching his shoulders, when he hoists her up onto the windowsill.

"How's this?" He settles snugly between her thighs, using his body to keep her perched on the windowsill. His hands stroke her legs as he pushes up her skirt, leaving nothing between them except her skimpy underwear.

Malena can hardly breathe, and not just because his body is so close to hers.

"It's good," she gets out in a whisper.

"Yeah?" He brushes a thumb across the lace of her panties, down between her legs. "You like this?"

She nods, unable to speak. It's not his smile, or the fact that he lifted her with barely any effort at all, that makes her chest swell with a warmth she can't describe. It's not even the way he caresses her through the lace, stoking the liquid fire between her thighs by slowly brushing his thumb up and down. It's that he _listened_.

She arches off the window as he nudges the lace aside with his thumb. His other hand goes to his shorts and pushes them down; the next moment he's pushing himself into her.

"How about this?" he purrs as he slides in, oh so slowly.

"Oh yes," she moans, squeezing her eyes shut. Her eyelids prickle as if they are filling with tears, but if that's what they are, they're not like the others. "Yes, please."

He chuckles softly. "Couldn't agree more, sweetness."

He keeps it slow, keeps caressing her with his thumb. She grips the edge of the sill with one hand to hold herself steady; the other she winds around his neck and pulls him closer. That's how they stay, foreheads touching and breaths mingling, stealing kisses from each other as he coaxes and teases her toward the peak. Even with all the practice he's had she could get there faster by herself, but it's so much sweeter when he does it for her, because the fact that he _can_ get her there is more proof that he _listens_.

That's the notion she savors in her mind, until each and every thought scatters as she goes over the crest and falls, cascading from thrill to thrill like a waterfall tumbling down the side of a cliff. And when she reaches the end, her throat sore and every limb shaking like leaves in the wind, that's when Reno picks up his pace. Her breaths quicken to shallow panting as she tries to time them with his rhythm, and both her arms are around him now, her fingers clawing into his back. There's little she can do but hold on, and she loves every steamy, lusty second of it. When he comes he buries himself deep in her, crying out, squeezing her thighs like a drowning man desperately trying to cling on. She likes that part even better.

Some time later – could be ten minutes, could be half an hour – her dress hangs on one of the chairs, carefully draped to keep from wrinkling. Her lingerie waits on the seat. She's still wearing her stockings, though. Reno asked her to leave them on. He keeps his hand on her thigh as he lies behind her. He's been idly toying with the lacy trim of her stockings ever since they collapsed on the bed. It seems her _invitation_ was a roaring success.

What would Reno have said, if she'd come to him with her ideas about chocobo racing? How might her life have turned out, if he'd been the one to whisk her away from San Doro instead?

She turns her head, enough to see his face out of the corner of her eye. His head rests in the palm of his hand, propped up by his elbow. He is watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, one corner of his mouth raised in a lazy  smile.

"Do I make you happy?" she asks.

"Sure you do," he murmurs. "Haven't you seen the smile you put on my face every time I see you?" His smile becomes a grin as he slides his hand up to her behind. "Every time I see this hot ass of yours, too."

He squeezes playfully, and she can't help but giggle – but her laughter is brief.

"Tiago thinks it's too big." She mumbles the last two words, as if that might lessen their sting.

"Course he would, since he's such a huge ass himself." Reno chuckles, still stroking her backside. "Who cares what that asshole thinks? I know a nice behind when I see one, and yours is world class, baby. And your tits…" He gives a blissful sigh. "Sweet fucking Shiva, your _tits_."

"My… what?"

"These." He lets go of her ass and grabs a handful of her bosom instead. "They're fucking amazing, y'know. I can't get enough of them."

Malena closes her eyes, smiling to herself, as his fingers proceed to caress and grope. What a crude man he is. So rough around the edges compared to suave Costan men, like Tiago and his business buddies. Such a breath of fresh air.

Or so she thought, at first. She was the one to suggest a visit to Reno's room, that first time, but the more she reflects on those first weeks she knew him, the more she wonders how much of it was really her call. She rarely indulged in smalltalk with strangers at La Luz, and had never accepted any drinks they offered. She'd never even considered following anyone to their room, no matter how winsome a smile they had given her. But Reno… He snuck past all her defenses in just a couple of weeks. By listening to her. By figuring out what she wants, and then giving it to her.

Yes, this pretty-eyed charmer of hers is… something else. He only wears his rough edges to hide the smooth operator underneath.

"Three gil for your thoughts, sweetness."

His hand is still on her breast, casually fondling her. How easy it is to lie fully exposed with him like this.

"Sorry, _querido_. My thoughts aren't for sale." Bare skin on skin is one thing. Baring her thoughts is quite another… especially now that she knows what he is.

"Looking to get a Fuerza patent on them first, are you?"

"Fat chance of that," she mutters, "while Tiago is in charge."

If Reno really is a Shinra agent, why would he come to her? There is only one answer, evident in his eagerness to nudge every conversation toward Tiago: to get at her husband, the man at Fuerza's heart. So why, then, would someone like him be after Tiago?

Dodgy business deals. It has to be dodgy business deals. Tiago has finally stepped on the toes of someone far bigger than himself.

Reno is planting a trail of lingering kisses down her shoulder. His hand has moved to her other breast, groping it as greedily as the first. If the choice is between his lies and Tiago's, it's an easy one to make. She doesn't feel so much as a sliver of remorse, because she has tried, hasn't she? For eight long years she has tried, and what does she have to show for it?

No more. Tiago and his opinions can sink into oblivion for all she cares. It's time for her to look after her own interests.


	8. Digging Deeper

When Malena sits down at the table, Tiago is halfway through his dinner. Since that makes the amount of food on their plates roughly equal, they ought to finish at the same time. Good. She doesn't mind eating late, if it means less time sitting at his table.

"What did the doctor say?" Tiago asks.

For a few terrible seconds she has no idea what he's talking about. Has only a day passed since her lie? It feels like weeks.

"Nothing much," she says quickly. "It's nothing serious."

"Dr. Havarro, was it?"

Something about the way he looks at her makes the hairs prickle on Malena's neck. Has he checked with Dr. Havarro? If he hasn't, he will. She is sure of it.

"No. It was a woman's doctor." The prickling sensation spreads as she lies, makes her feel too hot. Saints above, don't let it show on her face.

"Did he figure out why you're barren?"

Her fingers tighten around her fork. She isn't even surprised; it's classic Tiago, after all.

"Not yet," she says, swallowing down the urge to rub every detail of her years-long deception in his miserable face.

Tiago hums. He must be too preoccupied with his dinner to notice the glare she gave him. Malena looks down before that can change, and pokes her fork into the pile of carrot slices on the side of her plate. The one she aimed for breaks into mushy halves, but she doesn't try again. She pushes them to and fro, watching them flop around like chubby orange coins. She hates steamed carrots. Why did she make them again?

Because if she has anything other than bland vegetables on her plate then Tiago will make pointed remarks about diets. What a useless precaution. If he can't criticize her food choices, he'll just find something else. She should have allowed herself a thick slice of buttered bread instead, like the one he's stuffing into his odious face. He chews slowly before he swallows it down with a swig of wine.

"I called the house this afternoon."

A chill floods Malena's cheeks. That explains all the questions.

"I went to La Luz after the appointment." It isn't exactly a lie. Maybe that's why it feels easier to say it.

"Again? How many times has it been this week?"

"I added a couple of days to my schedule. I want to fit into the blue dress by the end of summer."

Her smile is awkward, she can feel it, but perhaps it is for the best. A genuine smile might be to conspicuous; it's been years since she gave him one of those. Tiago responds with a hard, unblinking stare. Malena feels the coldness spread into her fingers. Has he been to her room and searched her closet? Why did she tell such a risky lie?

Tiago drops his fork on the plate with a sharp _cling_.

"I'm going out," he declares. "If I call, you'd better be here to pick up."

Malena flinches as he slaps his napkin on the table.

"Will you be late?" she asks as he stands up.

"Don't wait up."

She keeps her eyes downcast as he leaves, clenching her jaw. She pushed her luck too far, and this is how she pays for it.

Well, the joke is on him. Had he known her plans for the evening, he might not have been so quick to tell her to stay put.

Malena clears the dinner table as usual, just in case he has forgotten something and comes back to fetch it. By the time she is done, though, the front door has remained shut and quiet.

Tiago's bedroom door unlocks as easily as before, and the office key is where she last left it. Inside his office the smell of smoke is weaker, perhaps because it's been a while since his last business meeting at home. Tiago isn't much of a smoker, but he does like to impress prospective business partners with hand-rolled cigars. Indeed, she finds a box of them as she rifles through his desk, but no key to his filing cabinets. Only few handwritten notes hide under the desk mat, and nothing at all lurks atop or behind the picture frames.

When she peeks under the phone she discovers a stubby silver key. It unlocks both of his filing cabinets. Biting down on a triumphant squeal, Malena grabs a handful of folders and sits down at his desk. She has time – chances are Tiago won't come home until morning – but she mustn't waste it.

Tiago is as strict with his paperwork as he is with her. Every year is filed separately, with a named folder for each company. The documents within are stored in chronological order. She starts with the current year and works her way back. The contracts are copies, as are the minutes and agendas for countless meetings, but most of the correspondence is original, typed out on stationary embossed with company logos and signed in ink.

It is well past midnight when Malena buries her face in her hands with a drawn-out groan. Nothing stands out; not even the few documents filed under Shinra. She has compared every agreement and amount mentioned in his personal letters with the clauses and numbers in the copied contracts, yet she's found nothing amiss.

Then again, is it so surprising? Tiago doesn't have a head for numbers like she does. Fiddling with them wouldn't suit him. No, the more she thinks about it, the more it feels like a dead end to comb through his papers for subtle irregularities. He is more straightforward in his dealings.

Gritting her teeth, she begins the careful task of tidying everything away as she found it. She will have to think of something else, and soon. Less than a month remains of the summer.

* * *

 

Malena keeps a low profile over the next few days. She doesn't want to give Tiago a reason to ask more questions, so she waits at home, ready to answer his landline calls as she prepares for the weekend's party. One of the days passes without a single call. On another, he makes three.

As she busies herself in the kitchen, she reflects on the events of the past few weeks. She was wrong about Tiago's office. What else has she gotten wrong? She sifts through what she's learned, trying to separate what she knows from what she thinks she knows. She ponders and dwells and ruminates. All it seems to do is get her stuck deeper in her own head. She finds no answers, only more questions and uncertainties.

At last, the day with a scheduled session at La Luz arrives. Malena puts in a cursory appearance at the pool, just in case. The loud, inane chatter of the inner courtyard grates upon her ears. The oblivious tourists clogging up her lane make her want to shriek. She darts back to the changing room as soon as she dares. The greeter at the reception desk let her use the spa's phone for a personal call on her way in, so when Malena arrives at Reno's cabin, he is ready and waiting.

She tangles her fingers in his impossibly red hair and pulls him close. The air is heady with his aftershave and her perfume, but when she gets close enough to cover his mouth with her own, she breathes in the scent of his skin, kissed by the sun and tinged with chlorine. It's his scent, _their_ scent, what she remembers when she thinks of secrets and lovers; it's what she's craved for days. His hands sneak in beneath her dress, teasing and caressing as they rove, and she melts into his touch.

But as his lips stray from hers to trail along her jaw, so do her thoughts stray from his efforts. The gloom that has haunted her for days inches back. Here she is again. Frittering away time she should be putting to better use. What's the point? How can any good come from something like this?

Still so weak. Nothing has changed.

No, wait. One thing has changed. Reno's mouth is no longer pressing hotly on her skin. Malena opens her eyes to find him watching her. Faint lines have appeared on his brow.

"What is it?"

She doesn't know what to say. She has no prepared answers, no rehearsed lines waiting on the tip of her tongue. If only her mind was as quiet as her mouth. The same thoughts chase each other in an endless wheel, as they have for days. To break it she'd need to let some of them free, but Reno is the only one she's talked to, _properly_ talked to in years and he's, well… He is what he is.

Or is he? She didn't find anything in Tiago's office. What if she's got it all wrong? Maybe Tiago is right. Maybe she should leave the thinking to him.

"Hey." With a finger under her chin, Reno lifts her face until their eyes meet. "Something on your mind?"

How much dare she say? She has to say something. She's been silent too long to brush it off.

"I think Tiago is… in trouble."

Malena waits for a reaction, but all she gets is a pair of raised eyebrows.

"What kinda trouble?"

"I… I'm not sure. He has been just so tense, like a…" She doesn't know the right expression, so she pulls an invisible string taut between her hands and pretends to snap it in two.

"Think it's serious?"

Still he watches her, watches her so carefully. Does he ask out of curiosity? Concern? And if it is concern… is it his cover he's worried about?

"I don't know!" Malena presses her fingertips to her temples, but that doesn't stop the doubts from whirling around in her head. "But if something happens to him…"

"The guy's an asshole." Reno spits it out like something foul. "What do you care what happens to him? It's pretty clear to me that you're better off without a fucker like that."

"You don't understand," she wails. "Without him I have nothing. I _am_ nothing!"

He takes her head in his hands, keeps her firmly in place as he pins her with a fiery glare.

"You quit that talk right this second," he snarls. "I don't wanna hear that _bullshit_."

Reno takes a step forward, still holding her head, and she has no choice but to move backwards. He doesn't stop until her back is flat against the wall. He towers over her, but she isn't afraid. She's too stunned to be afraid, even as he releases her head and begins to hitch up her skirt.

"You ain't nothing. You ain't never been nothing, 'cause I sure as hell don't get hard from looking at _nothing_. The only one who's _nothing_ is your asshole husband, and I'm sick of him getting in our way even when he ain't fucking _here_."

He pushes his hand into her panties. Malena gasps; her body wants arch off the wall, but he's got her pinned. Her hips jerk uselessly, trapped in place.

"You don't need him," he growls. "I fucking guarantee it. You're miles better than that piece of shit, and if you'd just open your fucking eyes for one _fucking_ second, you'd see it yourself!"

His hand works furiously between her thighs. It doesn't even feel that good, because it isn't for her. _He_ is setting the pace, _he_ is in charge, and she is _so fucking sick_ of having others rule every aspect of her life.

Malena plants both hands on his chest, and _shoves_. Reno stumbles back against the bed, loses his balance, falls. She pounces him as he lands on the mattress, pulls down his shorts; not all the way down, just enough to get what she wants. What _she_ wants. She, she, _she!_ The sound rumbling deep in his throat sounds like a growl, but if anything he helps pull her hips into place when she straddles him. The next second she's riding him like a tornado, because that's how she feels; like a raging storm set free at last, ready to sweep up and mow down.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Malena knows that if she were to stop and think she'd be horrified, so she doesn't. She shuts away those thoughts and lives only in the moment, because that's where she has everything she wants to care about. The willing body between her thighs, the pleasure that builds and blooms all at once inside her, the breathless grin on Reno's face. These are all that matters, the only things that exist in her fantasy-world present.

She grabs his hand, guides it back to its previous task. This time she keeps a hold of his wrist, stays in charge. It's a rush like no other, fueled in part by a nagging fear that whispers _that's it for you, you've really messed it up this time_ , but if that's true she'll just see it through until the end, because what's done is done and she may as well enjoy the ride. And when the end hits her, it strikes through her body like lightning, flares white across her eyes. Her whole world tilts – no, wait, that's Reno flipping them around so he can finish at his own pace, and that's fine by her, more than fine, because his frenzied pounding keeps her soaring a little higher, a little while longer, until her throat hurts and her conscious thoughts have flitted away in a blissed-out haze.

* * *

 

Motes of dust swirl above Malena. Thrown into the air by her frantic ride, only to become trapped in orbit around the lazy whirl of the ceiling fan. There's something pretty about it, really, the way they dance and glitter when they catch the light. It's not a thought she would ever have expected from herself. Then again, it's hardly the first thing she's come to see in a new light in this tiny flat.

Reno raises his arms above his head and stretches with an exaggerated groan. He rolls over to give her a grin.

"I love it when you get loud."

Was she loud again? She must have been, considering how raw her throat is. Funny how she never realizes it at the time. It used to be the complete opposite.

"I've never been so… _wild_ before," she confesses as she traces one of four parallel marks down his chest, angry red compared to the line of thick, faded pink they cross near the lowest of his ribs. The newly raked ones must be her doing. Another thing she didn't notice at the time. "You bring out the worst in me, Midgar man."

He laughs. "More like the best, baby."

The towering menace from before is nowhere to be seen. He lies on top of the covers without a single thread on his sinewy body, as is his wont. His eyes are half hidden beneath lazy eyelids, his hair mussed up beyond all hope. That isn't her doing, not directly at least. It always seems to end up like that.

"Speaking of good ol' Midgar, though…" His fingers ghost up her arm, their touch so light it almost tickles. "Ain't that long before I gotta go back, y'know. Think we'll have time to fuck in your bed before that happens?"

He says it as casually as anything else, yet in that instant she goes from drowsy to alert.

"Does my house excite you that much?" She disguises it as a tease.

"It'd spice things up, don't you think? We could do it on the couch, in the kitchen…" He grins wickedly. "On your hubby's desk."

Her smile falters as she remembers another office, with another woman bent over another desk. Same old Tiago, though.

"What makes you think he has a desk at home?" she asks, pinning on a new smile.

Reno shrugs. "In his favorite chair, then. On his car. Doesn't matter, so long as we're defiling something of his."

The mental images make Malena's face flush hot.

"Oh… he wouldn't like that at all."

"Yeah," he says, chuckling, "that's the point."

Oh, how tempting it is. It would serve Tiago right, wouldn't it? It's nothing he hasn't done to her, after all.

Yet the mere thought of bringing Reno to the house gives her chills. Tiago would see it as the ultimate defiance. He'd throw her out in the street if he caught them. Maybe worse.

There's no point saying that to Reno, though. He'll probably claim it'd be better that way. Easy for him to say. He has somewhere to go.

But something else nags at her more. This alluring promise of revenge is solely for her. Reno has no need for it. She may have wavered before, but now she is sure. She can read his true motives between the lines he feeds her, just like she reads Tiago's real meaning in the shape of his smile.

How many times has she been with Reno? So many now that she has lost count. And with each one, they have come a little closer to the inevitable end. As much as she's tried to ignore it, she's known the end would come. She thought that meant going back to her life with Tiago – but she's no longer so sure.

"He's been asking a lot of questions lately," she says out loud.

Reno props up his head with one hand. His messy hair falls over his eyes, but he pays it no mind.

"Think he suspects something?"

"I'm not sure." She sighs and stares up at the ceiling. "It's possible."

"Do you want to keep seeing me?"

What would he do, she wonders, if she'd say no? Not that it matters. She already knows her answer.

"Yes."

"Then fuck him and his questions. You want me at your house, you bring me to your house. I ain't afraid of him. You shouldn't be, neither."

"Easy for you to say," she mutters.

There it is, once again. How smoothly he plants those seeds in her head. Were she not listening as carefully as she is, she might end up inviting him to her home in the belief that it's her own idea.

"Hey." With a couple of fingers on her chin, he tilts her face toward him. "You're smarter than him, all right? You wanna do this, you'll figure it out. I know you will."

His pretty pool-blue eyes gaze at her with such sincerity. She wonders if he's laughing on the inside.

"Am I smarter than you?"

He grins. "Are you kidding me? I fold fucking towels for a living and drink away my paycheck. How smart can I be?"

She gives him the smile he expects. Chuckling, he pulls her closer and rolls onto his back. When she lays her head on his chest, his heart thumps a relaxed, steady rhythm beneath her ear. He's such a good liar.

But one of his claims is true. Soon, all this will come to an end. And as much as her sense tells her to abandon his suggestion, the idea of vengeance prickles in the back of her head, like an itch she can't reach. But bringing Reno to the house is nothing like her sneaking away to his place for an hour or two. Tiago has security cameras at every gate, at every door. She won't be able to hide this from him. As soon as he comes back home, he will know.

Or will he? Reno trying to get inside the house, bringing up the desk… Does he _know_ there is something for him to find, or does he just suspect? If he finds that something, what will it mean for Tiago? For her?

At the end of the day, there is only one way to find out for sure. Malena lets her eyes fall shut and settles against Reno's chest.

"I will think about it."


	9. Among Wolves

The cocktail party is in full swing. It's a larger event this time, worthy of a crooning singer and her band of musicians. Guests from several of Fuerza's local business partners mingle beneath paper lanterns in the garden, buzzing louder than cicadas. From her station in the living room, Malena can't hear the music anymore over their chatter. Thankfully, Tiago has hired a couple of girls to wander the garden with food and drink, so all Malena has to do is to refill their trays and the serving tables in the relative stillness of the living room.

Tiago hasn't had time to say two words to her since the first toll of the doorbell. Hopefully he won't notice if she takes the chance to chat with some of the guests. In the opening hustle and bustle of the party, she got in barely a few words with the arriving guests. Now that they've settled in and the girls have stopped running to her for instructions every few minutes, though, she might have her chance. She dawdles in the living room by the serving tables, adjusting this, aligning that.

She doesn't have to wait long before one of the guests approaches her. He's older than her, but not by much; mid-thirties would be her guess. His sky-blue suit is tailored, but he wears no tie and the top button of his shirt is undone. He holds out his glass.

"May I have a refill?"

Malena smiles. "Of course."

His eyes wander down as she pours him more sangria. She isn't surprised; her dress is a striking one, bold slashes of shimmering gold on red. While the neckline and hem are modest, it fits her like an embrace from a lover. Tiago told her it's too tight, of course. Malena imagined Reno's hands caressing her through the silky fabric and told her husband she didn't have time to change.

At least the man she's serving tries to be surreptitious about it. By the time she looks up, his eyes meet hers again.

"Thank you… Malena, yes?" he says as she returns the glass to him.

"And unless I'm terribly mistaken, you are Eron. Welcome back to our home." Thankfully she remembers him. His skin is only a few shades darker than hers, which made her wonder if he was from the north when they first met. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, she could tell he was born and raised in Costa del Sol, but his name lodged in her memory nonetheless.

"You know, I must confess. All this?" With a sweep of his arm, Eron gestures to the tables laden with food and drink. "This is what keeps me coming back to do business with Fuerza."

She rewards him with the coy laughter he expects. "You say that to every hostess you meet, don't you?"

"Only to my very, _very_ few favorites," he says, placing his hand over his heart.

As she laughs again, she casts a glance over his shoulder, scanning the garden through the open doors. She can't see Tiago. Hopefully it means he can't see them.

"The summer has been good for business, I hope?" she asks Eron, seizing her chance.

"It's always quieter in summer, but…" Smirking, he spreads his hands. "Can't complain."

"Does your company do any business across the sea?" She knows the answer, but hopefully he does not not know that she knows.

"From time to time, yes."

"Oh, really? Any big name partners… like Shinra?"

His eyes narrow, ever so slightly.

"We've subcontracted for them several times. In fact, we used to be one of their biggest subcontractors on this continent."

"Used to be?"

"Shinra decided to take their business elsewhere."

His reply is curt, and Malena takes the hint. It's not like she's interested in their business dealings, anyway.

"Well, perhaps you could indulge my curiosity." She lowers her voice, mimicking the conspiratorial hush that Mr. Biggs had used with her. "In your dealings with Shinra… Have you ever heard of the Turks?"

Eron pushes his hand into his pocket. He brings his glass to his lips, takes a sip. He watches her the whole time, until he has swallowed his mouthful.

"Now what would a lovely lady such as yourself know about the Turks?"

A lick of fear chills Malena's belly. She knows the signs, but did not expect to see them in him, from such a little question. Perhaps in persisting with Shinra matters, she is sailing too close to troubled waters.

Or… perhaps it was the Turks who spelled the end of Eron's business arrangement.

"Nothing, really," she says, with a laugh she hopes comes out naturally. "That's why I'm asking."

"Oh, you don't want to be asking about them. They might hear you."

He stares at her like a snake preparing to strike. Malena wets her lips.

"Is that… bad?"

He leans down, his eyes locked with hers.

"Very."

Malena goes absolutely still. She doesn't even dare breathe.

"Eron!"

It's Tiago, booming from the doorway.

"There you are, my friend!"

As Eron steps away to greet her husband, Malena fumbles for the table. Her knees have gone too soft to stand. Was that a threat? It sure didn't feel like a warning.

She starts as a hand closes around her arm. Tiago's hand, unpleasantly tight.

"You've been awfully friendly with our guests lately."

His voice is tight with annoyance. Malena can't bring herself to meet his eyes, not so soon after Eron's icy glare.

"I'm just trying to be a good hostess," she mutters.

"Then start by–" He looks up as a small group of guests enters the living rooms, chatting and laughing.

"Oy, Tiago!" one of them calls. "Sneaking off for some alone time with the wife, are you?"

"Oh, you know how it is," Tiago chuckles as he waves them in. "Got to make sure she stays out of trouble, yes?"

As they descend upon the food on the tables, he turns back to her.

"You are here to make sure there's food and drink on the table." He keeps his voice low. It's not a growl, but she knows it's only because others are in the room. "That's it. That is your purpose. Leave the guests to me."

She knows her line in this script. "Yes, dear."

"That's a good girl." He pats her cheek with a smile he wears for their guests. "Now fetch more bottles of wine before we run out."

In the kitchen, Malena slumps down into the nearest chair and covers her face. There she remains, until one of the serving girls comes looking for her.

* * *

 

The party has come to an end. All but three of the guests have left; Tiago has taken the trio upstairs to his office. Malena dismissed the girls half an hour ago, so the downstairs is all hers. She goes through the rooms, eerily quiet after hours of lively babble, and gathers stray plates and glasses.

As she passes the foot of the stairs, she picks out voices. Loud voices, if they carry all the way down from Tiago's office. She can't make out more than the occasional word, but it's clear the talks do not go well. Malena hurries her steps. A poor end to negotiations will put Tiago in a terrible mood, and all she can do to mitigate it is to have the house spotless by the time he comes downstairs.

Less than ten minutes later, she hears several pairs of feet tromp down the stairs. She sneaks to the lobby for a furtive look and arrives just as Tiago's three guests leave through the front door. Eron is one of them. As he turns to pull the door shut, he sees her. The look he gives her is dark.

The door falls shut. A second door slams on the floor above, mere seconds later. With a start, Malena flees to the kitchen. Tiago doesn't storm straight downstairs, though. By the sounds of it, he enters his bedroom instead. She hopes he'll stay there for the rest of the night, but he doesn't. As she listens to his heavy footsteps march down the stairs, she prays to every saint she can think of that the next thing she'll hear is the front door. But they ignore her pleas, for the footsteps head her way.

It's too late to leave. He'll see her, or he'll hear her, and that will make it all the worse.

 By the kitchen door, the footsteps come to a stop.

"What is this?"

Malena drops a plate, startled by his roar. It clatters in the sink, but thankfully it doesn't break. She turns, sees him in the doorway.

_She should have run_. The thought lands in her gut like a stone.

"What the hell is this, huh?" he demands again. His face is red with drink and fury, and his shoulders heave with every breath.

"What do you mean?" she whispers.

He comes at her. Before she can take more than a step, he has her cornered.

" _You_ ," he yells in her face, "asking questions about Shinra! About the fucking _Turks_? Who put those thoughts in your head, huh? Who the fuck have you been talking to?"

"No one," she stammers, pressing up against the sink at her back. "I was just making small talk."

"Your fucking _small talk_ just cost me a deal I've been preparing for months! Twelve million gil, down the fucking drain because of _you!_ "

"I'm sorry, I didn't know–"

"Yeah, you don't know a fucking thing, which is why you're supposed to keep your dumb fucking mouth _shut!_ "

His eyes are wild with rage. She turns her whole face away, squeezes her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry," she whimpers, "I won't do it again!"

"Damn right you won't, because otherwise we might both end up dead! Do you understand, huh? Is that simple enough to get through your thick fucking skull?" He jabs a finger into her head with his last three words, until she's shrunk down as far as she can go.

The trill of a phone pierces his expectant pause.

"Stay," he orders and pulls out his PHS.

He spits something into the phone, but Malena isn't listening. It's all she can do to remain standing. It hurts to breathe. Her chest feels too tight.

Tiago stabs his finger in her face, making her jump.

"I'm going out," he growls. "You don't talk to anyone. You don't take a single fucking step out of the house unless I tell you to. Got it?"

"Yes," she whispers.

As soon as he is out of view, Malena's legs fail her. She sinks to the floor in a graceless heap, bumping knees and elbows, scraping heels across the tiles. She feels sick, shivers uncontrollably despite the summer heat. She wants to hide, but all she can manage is to pull her knees to her chest. There she sits, curled up under the sink, and fills the kitchen with her gasps and sobs.

Eventually the panic subsides. She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, smearing it with ruined makeup. As her breaths flow easier, she can think again – and this night has given her plenty to think about.

All she did was ask about Shinra. Just one mention of the Turks, and Tiago's would-be business buddies fled the scene. Should she be fleeing, too? Clearly there she has bigger concerns than what Tiago might see on his surveillance footage. Perhaps she should be worrying about something more… permanent than getting kicked out of her home.

Malena's heart flutters like a startled butterfly. She isn't sure what she has gotten caught up in, but whatever it is, it has to be dangerous. And yet… for the first time in years, she can sense a way out. Not _see_ it, not yet, but she can feel it, sense the shape of it. It's there. She just needs to make it through long enough to find it.

Find what, though, and _where_? She has checked Tiago's desk, his filing cabinets. She went through his whole office and turned up nothing.

She goes still as something occurs to her. Tiago didn't come down right away after his disastrous meeting. He went to his _bedroom_.

There _is_ one more place he could have hidden his secrets. His private safe.

* * *

 

Tiago comes home late the next day, dishevelled and reeking of a perfume that isn't hers. He hands her his lipstick-stained shirt and orders her to clean it. Malena bites her tongue and obeys. His punishment could have been worse – and she has more important things on her mind now than his affairs.

She already knows that Tiago's safe is equipped with a keypad. In the days that follow, she confirms three more things. Judging by his sour mood, he hasn't worked out a new business deal to replace the one that fell through, so whatever he's hiding should still be in his safe. She needs the code that unlocks it, and she needs time and privacy to go through its contents. The latter she will have in abundance once he leaves on his "business" trip to Junon. To obtain the former, she has a plan.

She finds him in his office. An open briefcase lies on his desk. He stands by one of his filing cabinets, rummaging through a drawer in haste. Malena is surprised. Perhaps there is some actual business to this trip after all.

"Tiago?"

"What?" he barks.

"Could you write out a check for La Luz? I need it before you go."

He finally looks up, frowning. Little beads of perspiration glisten by his hairline. He's flustered, his thoughts focused on his impending trip. That is why she has waited until this moment.

"Already?" he snaps. "I just paid them a few weeks ago!"

"They changed their billing to once a month. The next payment is due tomorrow."

"What a bunch of incompetent idiots." He slams the drawer shut. "When I get back, I will have a word with them."

"Yes, Tiago," she says, bowing her head as she backs away from the door. "You do that."

He shuts his briefcase too, and stows it away behind his desk. When he passes her, he points a finger in her face.

"Wait here."

She waits by his office door as he marches down the corridor. At the door to his bedroom, he casts her a glance, then disappears into the room. Malena wastes no time. She yanks her heels off her feet and takes off after him at a silent run. She hears the muted bleep of the first key just as she arrives at the open door. When she peeks in, she sees him standing in front of his open wardrobe. The safe is inside, its keypad far enough to his left that she can see him press the next key: eight, followed by zero, then five. He raises his other hand to the handle, blocking the keypad from view as he taps two more digits. Malena bites down on a groan of frustration and tiptoes back to his office. Three out of six. It's better than nothing.

When Tiago emerges from his bedroom, she's standing where he left her, her hands clasped in front of her and her shoes back on her feet. She studies him furtively as he approaches, trying to gauge the scowl on his face. Maybe she wasn't as quiet as she thought. At the very least, he'll hear the wild beat of her heart. She's sure of it.

But Tiago doesn't look twice as he stalks past her into his office, checkbook in hand.

"How much was it again?" he asks as he takes a seat at his desk.

"Four-hundred gil." Does her voice sound off? It rings too high in her ears.

He scoffs and bends over his checkbook.

"I don't know why I keep paying for this," he mutters as he draws the zeroes with meticulous care, then pauses to look her up and down. "It's not like it's made any difference."

Malena digs her fingernails into her palms.

"I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

He grunts and returns to his task. Once every field of the check is filled in with his tidy lettering, he tears it off and holds it up in the air. She hurries to him obediently, but when she tries to take it, he tugs it back.

"Tell them to give you a better program. One that actually produces some damn results."

"I will." She reaches for the check again, and he allows her to take it this time. "Thank you."

Once in the safety of her bedroom, Malena leans back against the door and shuts her eyes. She did it. She actually pulled it off. She missed half of the digits, but the middle ones she saw: eight, zero, five. It's enough. Tiago will be gone for a week, she has plenty of time. It's enough.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, it turns out Tiago has arranged plenty of ways to waste Malena's time in his absence. Not one hour after his departure, a driver shows up and tells her she is expected at the Fuerza office. It's a charity fundraiser, which fills her day until nightfall. During the event, she discovers that Tiago has promised the use of her catering skills for a coworker's fortieth birthday in two days' time. It is too late to make other arrangements. Even if it wasn't, Tiago would never accept her refusal.

It's not until the fourth day that she has time to herself. After breakfast, she sneaks into his bedroom. She opens his closet, pushes his clothes aside. There it is, embedded into the wall: a gunmetal-gray slab with a silver keypad gleaming at its center. Malena gets to work.

Dozens of attempts later, she sits down on Tiago's bed, rubbing her wrist. She's trying to work methodically, working through the combinations in rising order, but the task is mind-numbing. She's lost track more than once and has had to backtrack just to be sure. With a sigh, she gets up and heads to the kitchen. She's in dire need of coffee.

Malena sits at the marble countertop as she waits for a cup to brew, doodling idly on a notepad. It's hard not to get discouraged. She knows that if she keeps at it, she'll get it sooner or later, but the wasted days weigh on her. If Tiago returns before she can crack his code, there are no more guarantees. He might change his code. He might move whatever it is he's hiding in that safe. What then?

She pours her coffee. As she goes to fetch the cream, her gaze lands on the notepad. She freezes to the spot, staring at the numbers she's scribbled. She knows those digits. Add one at the front and two at the end, and they form a date. The year, the month, the day. Tiago's birthday.

Coffee forgotten, Malena runs upstairs. Her fingers shake as she punches in the keys, so badly that she has to start again. A green dot lights up on the panel and the door clicks open. She thumps her forehead against the door, laughing. His birthday. His stupid _birthday!_

The safe is deeper than she remembered. The two shelves are stuffed full of folders and papers. She lifts out the stack on the top shelf and brings it to Tiago's bed. One by one, she examines the documents. Most of them are deeds for possessions and properties. Some of them she has never even heard of.

Halfway through the stack, she discovers something she hasn't seen for years. Her passport.

She picks it up, intending to set it aside, but ends up staring at the cover, absently stroking the gold embossing with her thumb. With it she could leave; go anywhere in the world. Tiago will be gone several days still, that will be enough time to sell something from the house. His large-screen TV alone has to be worth a ticket to Mideel.

And then what? She'll be stuck in Mideel with nothing. Tiago has the connections to find her, if he cares to. She'll only get away if he lets her.

Malena smacks her passport down on the bed and continues her search. The whole idea is useless, anyway. Getting away isn't enough anymore. _Not after eight long years._

But the heap of papers yields nothing that looks like a shady twelve-million-gil deal. The frustration nibbles at her as she carries the documents back to the safe; when the stack refuses to fit on the shelf the way she found it, she feels like hurling everything at the wall. But she swallows her anger _like she has for eight long years_ , and sets the documents down and reaches into the back of the safe. What she pulls out is a thin roll of paper, tied with white string. Puzzled, she stares at it. It looks nothing like Tiago's other papers.

Malena unfurls the roll on the bed. Within she discovers several sheets of paper covered in countless thin lines, annotated with codes and numbers in tidy print. It is a set of blueprints, that much she can tell. She has no idea what they describe, but the logo in the upper right corner of each sheet tells her everything she needs to know. In place of Fuerza's stylized sun, these designs are marked with the red Shinra diamond.

She was right all along. She was _right_. Malena allows herself a moment to simply sit and let it sink in.

The closest phone is in Tiago's office. Malena hops up on the desk and dials the number she has committed to her memory. The blueprints are spread out in front of her. Now that she has finally found them, she doesn't want to let them out of her sight.

The call connects.

_"Reno here."_

How can it feel so good to hear a couple of drawled words?

"Hi, _querido_. It's Malena."

_"Oh, hey girl. Everything okay?"_

"Everything is fine." She smiles, brushing her fingers across the blueprints. "But I miss you. I want to see you."

_"Sure thing, sweetness. My place again?"_

"No. Come to my house. Tiago is in Junon on a business trip."

In the pause that follows, Malena imagines Reno's jaw slowly dropping. She stifles a giggle, though only barely. She feels so giddy.

_"No shit?"_ he finally says.

"He won't be back until the weekend."

_"Sounds damn good to me."_ He's grinning, she can hear it. _"When do you want me over?"_

"Tonight, at five. I'll make dinner."

_"Can't wait, sweetness."_

He sounds like he means it. He probably does, for reasons that have nothing to do with her.

"Me neither." She means it, too. "See you soon."

Once she's hung up, she takes a slow, shaky breath. It is done. The end has begun.

Malena reties and returns the blueprints to the safe, and as she does so she notices the sheaf of papers on the shelf underneath. It is the contract she signed before her and Tiago's wedding. Page after page of clauses and stipulations. She has never read it all. She didn't think she needed to back when she signed it, fool girl that she was. She knows the gist of it now, though, as Tiago makes sure to remind her every so often. In the event of a divorce or his death, she will get nothing. Not a single gil.

Malena glares at the contract in her hands. She wants nothing more than to set it on fire, but it would be pointless. Tiago's lawyer is bound to have a copy or three.

But maybe… Maybe she can beat them at their own game. If this is to be the end, then there's no reason to hold back.

Papers in hand, Malena marches over to Tiago's bed and sits down to for a good, long read.


	10. Point of No Return

In the bathroom, Malena confronts her reflection with a critical eye. The dress is one of her favorites: white satin with clean lines and a full skirt, embellished with a starburst of black and silver embroidery. She has paired it with a single ruby, entwined in frail tendrils of white gold. It rests between her collarbones like a drop of blood. Her lips and nails are painted the same shade of red, her eyes lined and meticulously shadowed. At Tiago's parties all this has been the plumage of an ornamental bird, ready to be gawked at in her gilded cage. Tonight, she sees the stripes of a tiger.

Before she leaves, she gets down on one knee and retrieves her secret sheet of pills. She runs her fingers over the top row, counting the ones she hasn't touched since Tiago got on his yacht. She could count the days in her head, but tonight she needs the reassurance of physical proof. Satisfied, she slips the pills back into their hiding place.

No matter how Malena looks at the evening before her, it's a gamble. But she has gone over her plan from every angle she can perceive, and has done everything in her power to improve her odds. It isn't enough for confidence, but the fragile hope she cradles to her chest is more than she's had in years.

The doorbell trills as she reaches the foot of the stairs. Reno is right on time.

"Hot damn," are the first words out of his mouth when she opens the door. His eyes take their time with her, travelling her over from head to toe. "You look like a dream come true, sweetness."

His hair is brushed back enough to keep it out of his face, still barely under control. He wears a short-sleeved buttoned shirt with the collar left open. It's white, patterned with irregular diagonal stripes in pale shades of blue and turquoise. His shorts are similar to the ones he wears at La Luz, but these ones are beige. Malena smiles. Tiago would never wear shorts to dinner.

"I could say the same about you." She steps aside. "Come in."

Once inside, Reno holds up the wine bottles in his hands.

"Wasn't sure what you're making tonight, so I got a red and a white…" Even as he speaks his attention strays, and he finishes with a low whistle. "This looks like one hell of a place. Mind giving me the grand tour?"

"Does the house tempt you more than my cooking?" she teases.

"Just curious, sweetness." He slowly turns a full circle. "Ain't never been inside a house like this before. Looks like a fucking mansion from the outside."

She looks around the foyer, seeing it with fresh eyes. The ceiling has to be three times as high as his cabin. Everything gleams and sparkles; from the white marble floor to the curving stair and the ornate swirls of its banisters, all the way up to the crystal chandelier. It is a view designed to impress. Judging by the look on Reno's face, it is successful.

"I'll show you around, but later." With a smile, she slips her arm into his. "Dinner is ready."

"All right, all right." He chuckles as she pulls him past the stairs and into the dining room.

She gives him Tiago's seat. She has prepared an array of northern dishes Tiago would not approve of; too much seafood, he'd say, too many nuts and fruits. And he absolutely cannot stand the dark bread Malena cherishes from her childhood. She has baked a loaf of it.

Reno doesn't complain, nor make a single remark about what she puts on her own plate. He tells jokes and funny stories, compliments her cooking, and proves his appreciation by emptying his plate several times over. Malena soaks up every second of it.

After dinner she asks him to take a seat on the couch, and breaks the seal on one of Tiago's finest brandies, sloshing the russet liquid into a pair of his fat crystal glasses. As Reno cradles his and takes a whiff, a broad smile spreads across his face.

"Damn… This is the good stuff, ain't it?"

"It's _Gran Reserva_ , double distilled and aged in oak barrels." She smirks as she brings the glass up to her nose and inhales. "It is probably older than you are."

"Then it's high time someone drank it, ain't it?"

Malena studies him over her glass. His eyebrows are straight and slim, his eyes free of crow's feet. The daylight is fading, but she knows that even in the bright of the midday sun, his skin is still supple with youth.

"How old are you, actually?" she asks on a whim.

Reno grins. "Old enough to drink, if that's what you're wondering."

It's the kind of answer she's come to expect. How little this charming stranger with the pretty eyes lets her know.

"Well, in that case…" She clinks her glass against his and holds it up. "May all our wishes for this night come true."

"I'll drink to that, yo."

He raises his glass as their eyes meet, then takes a generous mouthful. So does she, and closes her eyes as she relishes the pleasant burn on her tongue, the heat that flows down her throat and spreads through her belly. Fortified by liquid courage, she gets up and takes his hand.

"Come on. It's time for the tour."

As she she pulls him toward the stairs, he peeks into the doorways along the way.

"We're skipping these?"

"I think you'll like the upstairs more. It's got the library, the office…" She casts a sly look over her shoulder. "The bedrooms."

He grins and questions no more.

At the top of the stairs, Malena raps her knuckles on the door in front of them.

"This is his office."

"That so?" Reno waggles his eyebrows. "Wanna go in there and make a mess of his desk?"

"Sorry, _querido_ ," she says, giggling. "He keeps it locked."

"Aw," he whines, but trots along after as she leads him down the hallway. Malena wonders how it all looks to him, these airy windows and vaulted ceilings. She wonders how it compares to his place in Midgar. She doubts he'll tell her. She'll never see it, that much is certain.

"This is Tiago's bedroom." She gently scrapes her nails across the door on their way past.

"Does he keep that locked, too?"

"He does."

"Seriously?" With a chuckle, Reno shakes his head. "He sure knows how to ruin our fun, huh?"

"Oh, I think we can find other places for fun." She stops at the last door and pushes it open. "In here, for example."

Reno's eyebrows rise as he strolls in. Maybe it's the four-poster bed, decked in gold and sage green, or the graceful arch of the leaded glass doors that open onto the balcony. Or maybe it's just the scale – the room is easily the size of his whole cabin. Just like the rest of the house, it was built to impress.

"This was meant for guests," she explains as she trails in after him. "I moved here after the second time I caught Tiago with another woman."

" _Second_ time? Guy doesn't learn from his mistakes, huh?"

"He learns. He just doesn't think of them as mistakes."

Reno halts his explorations for a look at her. He returns to her and cups her cheek.

"His mistake," he says firmly, and smiles. "And my lucky break."

His kiss is soft and sweet. How easy it would be, to just let herself be swept away in this familiar dance. To keep pretending, right up until the end.

But she can't just live for tonight, or for a few more days of summer. She has a whole future to consider.

"Reno, wait. Please." Malena takes his hands by his wrists and guides them down. "I need to tell you something."

"What, what is it?" The turn this is taking does not make him happy, but he still seems more puzzled than suspicious.

How little she knows about him. She has no way to foresee the outcome her next words will bring – if they will be the spark of a bright new future, or the seal on her coffin lid. She could choose to not say them at all, of course, choose to follow the script he has written – but that doesn't sit right with her. She has spent eight years living a lie. If this is to be the beginning of a new life, she wants to seed it in the truth.

"I know what you are."

His eyebrows draw together. "What do you mean?"

His confusion sounds so convincing, but it's too late for second thoughts.

"I know you work for Shinra. I know you are a Turk… aren't you?" Her voice isn't as steady as she wishes it to be.

Reno shakes his head, chuckling to himself. He opens his mouth, and she can already hear the excuses on the tip of his tongue.

"Please don't insult me with lies," she snaps. "That's what he would do."

Slowly, his mouth closes.

"I know you are here for him," she presses on. "Not me. I know you used me."

Several silent seconds pass. The amusement drains from his face, and behind it there is nothing.

"I use everybody."

No regret. No emotion at all. Just a statement of fact. It cuts her, deeper than she thought it would, deeper than it _should_ , because it's what she suspected, isn't it? It's what she _knew_.

"Just like him, huh?" Her voice rises, rebelling against the flatness of his. "He's done his damn best to use up everything I have and now you're here to take what's left?"

"I ain't here for what's left, _sweetness_. I wouldn't be here at all if that piece-of-shit husband you keep comparing me to had stayed out of the business of peddling stolen Shinra tech."

A shadow has fallen across Reno's face. He isn't glowering – _not yet_ – but he looks colder than she has ever seen. Malena backs away on old instinct, slips around the corner of the bed to put something between them. He follows, his steps unhurried as he places himself between her and the door.

"So that's what he's done," she mumbles as she retreats, because she can't stand his silence, can't read it at all.

"Yeah, but you already knew that. Didn't you?"

His voice has changed. Maybe it's a little lower, maybe it's a touch harder; Malena can't quite put her finger on it, but it trips alarms she knows all too well.

She sways as her heel bumps into the wall.

"You must have," he continues, "since you're so _sure_ Shinra's involved." He closes the distance between them, until they're face to face. "And that makes me wonder… What else do you know?"

"Me?" Her back touches the wall too, presses into it.

"You keep saying all you do is smile and look pretty." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and it doesn't feel like the gentle gesture it used to be. "But that ain't true, is it? Can't be, if you got me all figured out."

He's stood this close to her before. Closer than this, many times; yet she can't remember ever being this acutely aware of his presence inside her personal space.

"I spend time with you!" Her words tumble out in a rush, but she can't help it, when he _looms_ like this. "Not with Tiago, not with his business people."

"You talked with this Biggs guy, though." He traces the line of her jaw with featherlight fingertips. "What did he say, huh?"

"He told me about Shinra Turks," she whispers, relieved to finally have some truth to offer him. "He said one of them… has red tattoos on his face."

His fingers pause. If only she could see the look in his eyes, but she doesn't dare look up before his hand leaves her face.

"Well, how's that for fucking irony."

With a chuckle, Reno takes a step back and slides his hands into his pockets. Malena can breathe again.

"Why?" she dares to ask. "Is he involved?"

"We know Biggs is the guy who smuggles our tech outta Midgar. We're pretty sure your Tiago is the guy who sells it on to our competitors on this side of the pond." He shrugs. "Gotta prove it, though."

"And when you do?"

He raises an eyebrow. "'When'?"

Malena smiles bitterly. "I know my 'piece-of-shit' husband."

Reno takes his time to size her up.

"When I do," he finally says, "we'll deal with it."

"He will… disappear?"

He says nothing.

Malena looks down at her hands, clasped so tightly her knuckles have gone white. When Tiago disappears, or has an accident, whatever it was that these Turks mean to do… She will be left with nothing. The papers he made her sign before their wedding will see to that. Her life, such as it is, is in her hands again.

"Tell me one thing. And please, don't lie." She wishes she could face him, but she can't. "Did any of it… mean anything?"

"I had a good time whenever I was with you. I wasn't lying about that."

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. It could be worse, she tells herself. It could be worse.

And because it could be worse, but isn't, she will ask nicely. When she opens her eyes again, she locks them with his.

"Then in the name of those good times… Can I ask for one last thing?"

He tilts his head and looks her over. "What's that?"

"Give me a child."

"W-what?"

Reno's mouth hangs open, his eyes round and huge. It's both strange and amusing, seeing a man like him so startled. To think that she, a meek little housewife, can shock him so.

"A child," she says calmly. "I wish to have a child."

His mouth works, but no sound comes out at first.

"A child," he finally gets out.

She smiles. "Yours and mine."

"You're serious about this, ain't you?" He covers his eyes. "Fuck." It sounds more like a high-pitched laugh.

Malena's heart pounds an anxious beat. A cruel man, a selfish man, would have said no without a second thought. This she knows, after eight years with Tiago.

"I could have said nothing," she says quietly. "Nothing at all. I could have let you seduce me and leave, and you would never have known. But it would not have been right. A child should be a gift."

"A _gift_? If you know what I am and what I'm here for, why the hell would you want me to knock you up?"

Malena wets her lips. She moves closer, until she stands right in front of him.

"Because no matter who you are, no matter why you came to me… When I was with you, I was… _happy_. You made me smile and laugh. It's more than anyone else has done for me in years. You opened my eyes again." She places her hand on his arm. "I want it to be you. Please. No one else will ever know."

Reno keeps shaking his head.

"This is so _fucked_ ," he mutters, mostly to himself.

"I won't ask for anything else." She strokes his arm, tries to soothe his tense muscles. "I will never ask for your time or your money. I just want one good thing in my life after all these years of misery. Just one thing."

He draws a slow breath and lets it out in a sigh. Then he looks at her at last. In his eyes, she detects a glimmer of warmth, a touch of sympathy. It gives her hope, because it's a glimpse of the Reno she had come to know over the summer.

"If I find what I'm looking for tonight," he warns, "you'll never see me again."

She tries to smile.

"I suspected as much."

He looks at her hand on his arm and sighs again.

"You really want this, huh?"

"More than anything."

When he looks up, it's definitely the Reno she knows. Slowly, he puts an arm around her. Not for an embrace, because his fingers seek out the zipper of her dress and ease it down. Her breathing quickens. He watches her face the whole time, but she can't decipher the expression on his, not even when his hands go to her shoulders and push down the straps. Her beautiful white dress drifts down and pools around her feet; she steps out of it, over to the bed. Reno watches intently as she slips off her lacy lingerie, but makes no move to aid her efforts. It isn't until she steps out of her heels and sits down on the edge of the bed, that he finally unbuttons his shirt.

She squirms a little as she waits. There is something strangely arousing about being on display like this, watching and waiting, knowing what is to come. Soon she will feel those slim fingers on her skin, feel the touch of his lips and the familiar weight of his wiry body. She will feel him for the last time.

As he approaches the bed, Malena scoots back. He dips his fingers in between her thighs as he climbs on top of her, but the caress is fleeting. To check she is ready for him, Malena guesses, because soon after he pushes in. Too soon, sooner than she had hoped and expected.

Their bodies are the same, their motions are the same; yet everything feels different. The gravity of the future hangs over them, smothers the present with its weight, and replaces passion with steady efficiency. It's not just her imagination, either. Reno feels it too; she knows it from the way he looks at her, from all the remarks he isn't making.

Or… is it that now he knows that she knows? Is this what it's like now that he no longer has to pretend? Was everything they had before just an act?

No. She refuses to believe that. She takes his face in her hands, makes him look her in the eyes.

"Kiss me, _querido_ ," she whispers. "Make me remember this night, always."

Malena closes her eyes as his lips touch hers. It's a soft kiss, a little uncertain and fumbling – and with that kiss, something changes. He keeps the beat, but the motions that drive it speed up at the beginning and linger at the end. It seems like such a small thing, but it makes all the difference, because within seconds her body stirs and responds. She matches this new, sensual rhythm with eager hips and quiet gasps, that soon become low, breathy moans.

His lips leave hers and travel down her cheek, one soft kiss at a time.

"Will you come for me, sweetness?" he murmurs once he reaches her ear.

"If you get me there." She even adds a _please_ , because she wants him to do this for her one last time, wants it with all her heart.

She frowns as he rolls off her, but when he pulls her on top of him, she understands. She finds her position quickly, guides him back in where he belongs. By the time she sets a sensuous, grinding rhythm, his thumb is already stroking her between her thighs. On his face, she finds a breathless smile.

Oh yes, _this_ is what she wants. It's not just the physical gratification, as deep and delicious as it is, but to look upon the face of her lover no longer locked in grim resolve. He enjoys it too, this foreign charmer of hers; he enjoys _her_. She bends down for another brandy-sweet kiss, hidden within the cascade of her auburn hair, and matches the motion of her lips to that of her hips. He tangles a hand in her tresses, his response as ardent it is greedy. This is what she wants to remember, no matter how it all plays out in the end: the warmth, the scent, the taste, and a sweeping pleasure that blooms far deeper than the touch on her skin.

She comes up for air and picks up her pace, spurred on by a growing, innate need. He stares up at her, slackjawed and panting, his pretty eyes wide and dark with unbridled want. That is the sight she commits to memory, because in that moment she feels like a goddess, as awesome and wild as nature itself. And in that moment, she reaches the heights she craves. She lets herself go, freely, happily, lets those waves crash over her and sweep her away to where she has not a single care for anything else.

Before long, the current draws her back to the world around her. She hears the choked sound he makes, feels him tense under her. She opens her eyes just as he pulls down on her hips and clamps them to his, and watches in wide-eyed wonder as his face goes tight in physical rapture.

The relief that washes over her, the gratification, they're too much. Unable to hold herself up a moment longer, she slumps down on top of him. His arms wrap around her in languid slow-motion and he holds her to his chest, still heaving with ragged breaths like hers.

"Lena," he sighs.

It goes right through her, straight to her heart. Malena wants to say his name in return, but a lump has appeared in her throat without warning. She touches his cheek instead, touches his hair, strokes it tenderly, and that's how they remain for a long, precious while.

* * *

 

When Malena stirs, it has gone dark. Someone sits on the edge of her bed – Reno – fully dressed once more, she knows, even as she can barely make out the shape of his face in the gloom. He reaches out and runs the back of his fingers down her cheek.

"I gotta go." He kisses her, and pulls away far too soon. "Stay here 'til morning. Please." The mattress dips as he rises.

"You'll need the code," she says quickly. "For the safe in his bedroom."

He stops. Slowly he turns to face her again.

"Bedroom, huh?" Caution tints his voice. "I'm guessing you have this code?"

"I do."

She hears him draw a measured breath.

"What do you want for it?"

"Sixty-eight, oh-five, eleven." She smiles and hopes he can at least hear it in her voice. "A gift for a gift."

She can feel his eyes on her, but his expression is inscrutable in the dark. He turns away without a word. She listens to the sound of his footsteps across the floor, feels their echoes inside her chest. When he opens the door, light spills in through the gap and she sees him at last. For the very last time, if everything goes according to his plan.

"Reno."

He pauses in the doorway, framed by the light from the corridor outside. Malena memorizes the slant of his shoulders, the red glow of his hair.

"When you… deal with him," she says. "Make it slow."

Reno glances over his shoulder. He says nothing, but the dark smile on his face tells her all she needs to know.


	11. The Changing of the Seasons

Malena receives the call two days later. Tiago has become violently ill after a meal with his personal assistant at a Junon restaurant, a polite doctor is telling her. A severe case of food poisoning, they suspect, as the assistant is suffering from similar symptoms. No need to come over, the doctor is telling her. Cases such as these are rarely fatal.

The second call comes four hours later. It's the same polite doctor, informing her that Tiago is dead. Malena asks if he'd been in pain. The doctor politely avoids a straight answer.

Once she hangs up, the tears come. Swift, overwhelming, impossible to stop. That is how the cleaner finds her. Malena can't fully explain it – grief? remorse? utter, shattering relief? – but she supposes it makes a good impression on the detectives who arrive the next day to ask them both questions. They, too, are treating it as an unfortunate case of food poisoning.

She tries to give Reno a call. As she listens to the prerecorded voice that tells her the number can't be found, the tears overwhelm her again. She doesn't try a second time, nor does she go looking for him at his cabin. She cancels her membership at La Luz.

Malena has no tears left at the funeral. Tiago's secretary spills more than enough for the both of them. She's a frail thing, all skinny arms and legs. Her skin is sickly pale and her eyes hollow. Perhaps she's still recovering from the food poisoning.

Malena can't bring herself to feel hatred for the girl. In her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, Malena sees the same lost confusion that stared back at her from the mirror all those years. The poor thing probably thinks it was love. Malena thought the same, when she was her age.

The funeral opens Malena's eyes in other ways, too. Seeing Tiago in his coffin, before watching it sink deep into the ground – that solidifies beyond all doubt that he is gone. His life really is over… and hers, at last, begins.

* * *

 

Malena sits at Tiago's desk. _Her_ desk now, her office. Her view from the window, out over the garden and the glinting strip of turquoise sea beyond its brick walls. Alita, the gardener, is trimming one of the low hedges. It's all very strict and contained, full of right angles and rectilinear paths. Very eastern, which is probably why Tiago wanted it in the first place. Malena makes a mental note to talk to Alita about a complete redesign.

Today, though, she has a different agenda. One that is far more important, and far more difficult to face. The phone is right there in front of her, waiting on the desk. She doesn't need to look up the number; it's been safely stored away in her head for years. The only reason Malena has been sitting in this room for half an hour is Malena herself.

Enough is enough. She inhales deeply, then snatches up the receiver. She taps the keys in quick succession, then closes her eyes as the breath whooshes out of her. It is done. All she has to do is hold on to the receiver until someone picks up. It's so simple, yet with every ring on the other end, her heart hammers harder and faster.

The line clicks as the call goes through.

_"Yes?"_

It's just one word, but it's one she knows so well. Decades could pass and she'd still know that firm, gravelly greeting.

"Papá," she says, her voice already thick with tears. "It's me."

The line goes silent. She can no longer even hear him breathe.

_"Malena?"_ he rasps. _"Saints above, is that my baby girl?"_

He sounds so startled, yet she can hear the smile in his voice. She laughs, even as the tears stream down her cheeks.

"Yes, papá. It's really me."

* * *

 

Malena adjusts the skirt of her dress. A black one buttoned up to the neck, with a hem well below the knee. Her purse is black, too, as are her shoes and stockings. Appearances have to be kept.

The lawyer offers her a chair before he waddles in behind his oaken desk. It's impressive in size, even next to him. He sits down with a huff and produces a handkerchief from the front pocket of his linen jacket.

"I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Garro," Malena says with a polite smile. "I'm leaving for San Doro in the morning, you see. I won't be back for several weeks."

"It's no problem at all, Mrs. Padiz." He dabs his forehead with the handkerchief. "But I have to wonder why you would you come all this way to see me. You do know the terms of the prenuptial agreement, yes? They are quite clear, I'm afraid. There's nothing I can do for you."

"I know the terms," she confirms. "However, there is one thing _you_ are not aware of yet. I'm pregnant."

Mr. Garro's tidy eyebrows rise high.

"Oh." His eyes travel down to her stomach, even though it's too early for it to show. "Oh, I see. That changes things."

"Yes." She smiles. "I do believe it does."

"Well," he begins as he leafs through the neat stack of documents on his desk, "in the absence of a named guardian of property, the law states that the task falls to the parents. In this case," he gestures to her, "the sole parent. The transfer of property will have to wait until the child is born, of course."

"Of course. But once that transfer is done…?"

He pulls out a manilla folder from the stack and spreads it open, then pauses and looks up at her.

"Then you will become a major stockholder of your late husband's company in your child's stead, until your child's twentieth birthday."

His smile seems melancholy. Malena wonders if he actually knew Tiago, or if his mouth just slants that way naturally.

"I thought as much," she says out loud.

Mr. Garro clears his throat and picks up the top sheet from the papers inside the folder. He reads out several clauses, pausing after each one to pick it apart and point out its relevance to her situation. At the end of their meeting, he walks her to the front door of his practice. Malena slows her steps to allow him to keep up.

"Once again, my condolences for your loss," he says as he takes her hand at the door. "And I suppose congratulations are in order, too. On your, um…" He gestures awkwardly to her waist.

"Thank you." She smiles and places her hand on her stomach. "It's the only good thing to come out of this nightmare."


	12. Epilogue: Times Change

Malena holds her son's hand as they make their way down the rocky path, but she lets go once they reach the beach. Mateo runs across the damp sand to the nearest puddle, startling the motley group of seabirds that flocked around it. His peal of laughter rings through their irate cries as Malena picks her way over to a weathered wooden bench near the high water mark. It's her usual perch during these little excursions, when she feels too tired to run between tidal pools, or when the tang of drying seaweed is too strong for her nose, like today.

"Don't go too far," she calls. Her warning falls on deaf ears; Mateo is completely engrossed by whatever he has discovered in the shallow water.

In spite of a cloudless spring day, the beach has few visitors. She spots a couple farther down, strolling hand in hand toward the city, but otherwise it's just her and Mateo. It isn't unusual. Costa del Sol has far prettier beaches for the tourists, with more sand and fewer rocks. This one is far from the bars and the hotels, too. It's one of Malena's favorite spots.

Mateo enjoys it, too. He is leaning over his second puddle, watching intently. Damp patches have already formed on the knees of his pants, but that's fine. They'll return home soon.

"Whoa. Kid's getting big, ain't he?"

Malena's breath catches in her throat. She turns her head before she has worked out what to say and for a few seconds, she just stares at the man who has appeared behind her.

After so many years, it really is him. He watches her with eyes so bright and blue that she can't even put two thoughts together.

"He'll be five soon," she manages.

"Yeah. I know." He looks over at her boy. "Mateo, right?"

"Yes. Mateo Padiz Lucoza."

His lips quirk in a cynical smile. "Lucoza, huh?"

His leg brushes against hers as he takes a seat on the bench. There it is, still after all these years; that frisson she felt whenever they touched. She crosses her legs, discreetly bringing her body out of his reach, and looks away toward her son. Mateo is still poking at something in the sand, unaware of their unexpected visitor, not to mention the hammering of his mother's heart.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to see you again."

"Yeah, well…" Reno bends over, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Times change. Now that you've made Fuerza one of Shinra's biggest partners, we're bound to bump into each other now and then."

"You give me too much credit." It's easier to find her words now that he isn't looking directly at her. "It is the board of Fuerza that makes the business decisions."

"And they wouldn't have made that one without you pushing for it. We both know that."

"Well… Better in bed with Shinra than at odds. This I know better than most."

She runs a fingertip over the rings on her right hand. One of them is a couple of sizes too large, held in place by the other; Tiago's wedding ring, marking her as a widow. Tradition calls it a memento, a homage to their marriage. To her, it is a trophy. One she could not have secured on her own.

She eyes Reno's dark suit. Even though his jacket hangs open and the collar is unbuttoned, it seems an odd choice for the beach. She knows what it is, though. During her dealings with Shinra, she has learned what a Turk suit looks like.

"Is this a… professional visit?"

"Nah. This is about as personal as it gets." His eyes don't leave the boy playing in the sand. "I'm passing through on my way back to Midgar. Thought I'd… drop by for old times' sake."

Malena tries to be surreptitious as she looks him over. The years have left their mark on him, leaving his face gaunt with weary lines around his eyes. Even so, he is bound to attract his fair share of admiring glances, especially around here. His hair is as red as ever, grown long in the back and gathered into a thin ponytail. His eyes, tired as they are, watch his surroundings with the vigilance of a hawk – though at the moment he keeps them trained on the boy.

"He sticks out a lil' around these parts, doesn't he?" Reno says, keeping his voice low. "Red hair, blue eyes…"

"They say his hair is red like his mother's. I say yes, it is. They say his eyes are blue like his father's." She smiles. "And I say yes. They are."

"Guess they're right about that."

He's smiling too. She had forgotten how much the sight warms her. And… before this moment, she hadn't realized how closely it mirrors Mateo's.

She turns her attention to her son. She studies him as he scurries from one half-buried treasure to the next, searching for other similarities between his chubby child's face and that of the thin man beside her. Her boy is on the pale side for a Costan, but not enough to raise eyebrows considering his mother's northern heritage. The red of his hair may be more vibrant than hers, but it's several shades darker than Reno's. It should be safe to be seen together, for now.

"I consider him a gift," she says.

Reno keeps watching the boy, keeps smiling.

"The thing about gifts," she adds, "is that once one is freely given, the giver loses all claim on it."

Slowly, his smile fades.

"Don't worry. I ain't here for that."

"Then why are you here?"

With a long, slow sigh, Reno pushes himself up and lets his lanky body settle against the back of the bench. Was he always so thin?

"Peace of mind, I suppose."

As another silence falls, Malena wonders what her son looks like in Reno's eyes. The past five years have flitted by faster than she had thought possible. No matter how thoroughly he may have tried to keep tabs on the two of them, he has missed so much.

"He's a clever boy," she says. "He already knows several phone numbers by heart. Our house, my PHS… Half a dozen business numbers he has seen in ads he likes."

"Takes after his mom, huh?"

They share a smile, and for a moment he looks more like the carefree pool boy she met all those years ago. It eases some of the tension out of her shoulders.

"We come here every evening. When the tide is low like this, he loves to see what he can find." She laughs. "He asks so many questions about his finds. And when I answer, he comes up with more!"

Reno chuckles. "Now that sounds more like his–"

After a few moments of awkward silence, he looks down. The hand on his thigh has formed a fist.

"Speaking of questions," Malena begins carefully. "He has also begun asking about his father."

"Only natural for a boy his age, I guess." He speaks casually again, though his hand remains balled up. "What do you tell him?"

"That his father was a charming man who made me smile and laugh, and swept me right off my feet."

He keeps his eyes down, but the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

_"Mamá!"_

Malena turns her head. Out on the beach, Mateo straightens up and raises his hand, clutching something.

_"Look what I found!"_ he shouts in Costan.

He freezes mid-wave when he spots Reno at her side. After looking him up and down, Mateo turns to her in blank-faced confusion. Reno has gone as still as the boy who stares at them, but Malena can feel his eyes on her, too.

_"It's all right,"_ she calls, switching languages. _"Come, Mateo, show me what you have there."_

Over the past few years, little by little, Malena has learned to trust her gut again. As her son scampers around the shallow puddles between them, cupping his prize, she prays it won't lead her astray today.

Mateo arrives, pink-cheeked and huffing. He braces himself on her knee as he presents his treasure.

_"Mamá, look!"_ In his palm lies a spiral shell the size of his hand, patterned with a whorl of brown on creamy white.

_"Wow, look how long this stripe is."_ She traces it with a fingernail, from the center to the outer rim. _"Do you know what this is?"_

_"A sea snail."_ Mateo keeps his big eyes on Reno as he speaks. He must be feeling shy in the company of a stranger, and a foreigner at that, judging from the trickle of words in place of a flood.

_"That's right,"_ she encourages. _"It's really pretty, isn't it?"_

_"Uh huh. It has a whole family over there."_ He points back the way he came.

_"How many did you see?"_ Reno asks, hunching forward with his elbows on his knees. Only a slight accent marks him as a non-native speaker; his Costan has improved since she last heard him speak it. Or perhaps he kept his skill hidden back then, to fit the role he played.

_"Twelve_ ," Mateo replies, mumbling a little.

_"Whoa, you already know how to count to twelve?"_

A smile spreads across the boy's face as he nods. Then he notices the red tail of hair that is slipping over Reno's shoulder. As Mateo stares at it, his eyes grow big. He raises his hand, reaching for his own hair.

_"Take this one back to its family,"_ Malena says quickly, patting the hand with the shell. _"Can you find more to count?"_

Mateo gives Reno's hair one last curious look before he scurries off. With a sigh, she resigns herself to a torrent of questions at bedtime.

"You've got a plan B, I assume," Reno says, lowering his voice. "In case, you know…"

He has switched languages again; for Mateo's sake, perhaps, as the boy has kept himself within earshot and keeps glancing their way. Malena follows his cue.

"I have three." The catering business is her pride and joy; she specializes in events for international guests. The chocobo stable has raised a pair of black birds who have nabbed their first few prizes at the big-name races; she founded that in Mateo's name after his birth. And there's her last-ditch contingency plan, the savings account she opened with a Junon bank a few months ago. "So don't worry," she says with a wry smile. "No matter how it goes, we won't come begging to your door."

Reno sighs. "That ain't why I asked."

"So why did you?"

"I just…" He stares at the boy, until he lowers his head and shakes it.

Malena's hand inches up from her lap before she catches herself. She sets it back down and covers it with her other hand, and takes a deep breath to quell the stinging in her heart.

"Mateo's father is gone," she says firmly. "That cannot change."

Reno releases another heavy sigh.

"There's too much at stake," she adds. "You know that."

"Yeah." His voice has gone thick; he clears his throat and rises to his feet. "Yeah."

Malena's chest twinges again. He could have chosen to cause trouble. He could have made demands in return for keeping her secret, and she would have had no choice but to give in, for Mateo's sake. Once again, he is showing her kindness when it matters the most.

"But…" She waits until Reno looks up. "I think Mateo would enjoy the occasional visit from… an uncle, perhaps?"

He goes still. His eyes are piercingly sharp as he appraises her, but Malena meets them head on. An unexpected calm came over her as soon as she voiced the idea. She hopes that means she has made the right choice.

"Uncle Reno, huh?" He says it slowly, as if testing it out loud.

"It might suit you."

He snorts, shaking his head again.

"Please understand that I wouldn't offer this to just anyone. One wrong word to Mateo or someone else… this could bring dangerous questions." Malena gives him a smile. "But a Turk knows how to keep secrets, yes?"

Several long seconds pass. Then, Reno smiles too.

"I'll think about it."

With one more lingering look at Mateo, he turns and leaves. When Malena can no longer hear the quiet crunch of his shoes on the sun-bleached sand, she allows herself a deep, measured breath. Traces of her old self-doubt have already stirred, but she pushes them back down where they belong. She has considered this eventuality. She has played it out, many times and in many ways. It's a gamble, a dangerous one, but whichever way Malena looks at it, the benefits outweigh the risk. Over the years she has learned more about Shinra and their shadowy Turks. One day, blood ties to a Turk could prove… convenient. As Reno himself said just before, times change.

Out on the damp sand, Mateo looks up and notices her watching him. He grins and raises his arm in an enthusiastic wave.

Things can change. But today, Malena will enjoy the things she has changed her way. Smiling from the bottom of her heart, she raises her hand and waves back to her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, what a ride this has been. I'll miss Malena.
> 
> A big special thank you to my beta reader, Mr. Stompy, and to all you lovelies who took the time to comment, kudos, bookmark, subscribe, ask questions on my Tumblr... You rock!


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